Spike Shirtless and Bleeding
by Valerie X
Summary: Spike/Dawn friendship post The Gift.
1. Death Wish

Death Wish

*Warning: Spoilers for "The Gift"*

Title: Death Wish

Author: Valerie

Rating: R for nudity and language

Spoilers: for all of Season 5, including "The Gift". Speculations after that; I have no knowledge of Season 6.

"Evil creatures stand *back*!" 

The two vampires attacking Xander were suddenly thrown off of him, as if moved by an invisible hand. They crashed into a masoleum and fell to the ground. Giles, who had been waiting behind the structure, turned one to dust as it fell. He lunged at the other, stake in hand, but it dodged the fatal blow and threw a punch at him. Giles took the hit without faltering, and in a moment, the vampire was dust.

Willow, Tara, and Anya approached Giles as he was brushing the dust off his pants.

"Thank you, Willow." Giles said.

"No problem."

"Ouch," came from the ground nearby. "Body parts…hurting…"

"Oh my poor baby," Anya cried out, as she rushed to Xander's side.

"Xander?" Giles asked.

"I'll be okay." Xander pushed himself into a sitting position. "Just suffering a minor bruise of the pride. And possibly a concussion."

"You killed that first vampire real good, honey" Anya consoled him.

"Certainly; you couldn't be expected to take on all three," Giles said. "Good job, all around."

"Think there's any more?" Tara asked, looking around.

"Doubtful," Giles responded. "Besides, it's nearly sunrise. We should all go home and get some rest."

"Yeah," Xander agreed, looking up at the pink flecks of sky on the horizon. "No vamps would be stupid enough to fight this close to daytime."

*

Spike growled as he charged the demon. 

It was a Enieffac demon, an ancient race of warriors who once ruled half the demon species on Earth. But in the past million years or so, the Enieffac had become just another monster to hide in the woods and eat the occassional hikers' body parts. Still, they were immortal creatures, and most could remember a time when they hunted the things that hid in the bushes. They yearned for a return to power. After news of the Slayer's death reached the underworld, they had come out in force, determined to bring about the destruction of the human race. Two weeks ago, there had been nearly a hundred of them poised to prey on Sunnydale's population. Their green blood boiled with excitement as they began their war on humanity.

But not a single human being had died by their six-fingered hands.

And now there was just this one left.

Spike grabbed the demon by its slimy head, pressed his thumbs into its eyes, and in one quick move of his arms, separated the creature's head from its body. 

And now there were none.

Spike wiped the green, sticky blood off his hands and onto his leather coat. There was a slight burning sensation on the back of his neck, and at first he thought it was an instinctual reaction to another demon. He spun around, ready for the kill, but found only the murderous sun dancing upon the horizon.

"Bugger," Spike muttered. He had abandoned his crypt the night of the battle with Glory, and spent the days sleeping wherever he could find shelter from the light of day. There was a masoleum only a few yards away, and he headed towards it. The decomposing bodies provided the only bedding his needed. He would sleep where he felt he belonged: among the dead.

*

Dawn woke up a half hour before her alarm clock went off, as she had been doing every day this summer. She threw the sheet off her body and sat up. The air was hot and oppressive. It was July, but Dawn was supposed to go to school. She had missed the end of the semester when she had been nearly killed. The foster parents she'd been placed with enrolled her in summer school, but so far Dawn hadn't set foot there. 

Dawn showered and dressed quickly, grabbed her backpack, as was out the back door just as she heard her foster mother call out, "Dawn? Are you going to school?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. The stupid woman knew she wasn't going to school. But both she and the annoyingly cheerful foster father just wouldn't give up. They continued to play pretend-family, though Dawn was out most of the time and had refused to speak more than two words at a time to them.

Dawn went to one of the graveyard. She spent all her days there. At night they were crawling with Buffy's old friends, and Dawn didn't want to see them. But during the day the town's graveyards were oddly empty, as if all of Sunnydale's residents had forgotten about their departed loved ones, as if they had just left the dead to rot.

Dawn walked through the graves, looking at the names, though she recognized none. This wasn't the graveyard where her sister was buried; she never went there. 

Dawn approached a masoleum and tried the door. It was locked. She picked up a nearby rock, broke one of the small glass windows on the door, and walked in. These tombs were built into the walls. The only free-standing object was a small stone statue of a saint. Dawn picked it up, held it high over her head, and then threw it to the ground with all her strength. The sound of it shattering rang through the empty room.

It was oddly comforting.

After destroying the statue, Dawn found nothing else she wanted to break or steal, so she moved on.

The next masoleum she came to was open, but she didn't hesitate when she stepped in. An open masoleum usually meant a vampire nest, but it was daytime, so they might not be able to kill her. And besides, she didn't care much if they did.

The room was dark. As Dawn opened the door further, sunlight spilled in over the tombs, one of which was open.

"Bloody hell!"

Dawn took a step back when she heard the shout. A naked and smoking form leapt out of the tomb and into the shadows, where it stood, muscles straining, ready to fight.

"Spike?"

The form faltered. "Dawn?"

For a moment, they both stood motionless, staring at each other.

"Spike, why are you naked?" Dawn asked.

Spike looked down at his body, as if suddenly realizing it was there. "Oh," he said. "Sorry, little bit. Didn't mean to scar your young eyes." 

"I think I've already been scarred," Dawn said softly. "Doesn't bother me."

"Close that door, would you?" Spike asked her. He gestured to the ground next to the tomb, where his clothes lay in a ray of sunlight.

"I'll just go," Dawn said. She stepped out the door, closing it behind her.

"No! Wait!" Spike called out. He grabbed his pants, slipped them on, threw his jacket over his head, and rushed into the sunlight.

But Dawn was gone.

*

Night fell, and the Scooby gang was out in force. They had killed two vamps and three demons, and it wasn't even midnight yet. 

As they swept the next graveyard, Willow fell into step with Giles.

"Any news about Dawn?" she asked.

Giles shook his head sadly. "I visited the foster parents again today. She'd been gone all day, and they said she usually doesn't return until late at night, if she returns at all."

Willow sighed. "She isolating herself. This isn't good."

"Well, it's understandable," Giles said. "Being with us must remind her of…"

They both fell silent, unable to say her name. When a grave erupted in front of them, it was a welcome distraction.

*

Spike needed something to kill.

He had rid the town of the Enieffac demons, and they had been his focus. The run-of-the-mill vamps were being taken care of by the Scoobies. He wished he could tell them all to just give up, to leave the monsters of the night for him. After all, for them it was just the tattered remains of Buffy's mission. They still had their lives and their families. All he had was the kill.

But he couldn't talk to them, couldn't be near them. He had seen them in the graveyards at least once a week, and managed to slip away from them undetected. 

He came across one vampire, and made short work of it. It was too easy. The Enieffac demons had put up a fight, and he liked that. One had left a deep gash across his back that was still healing, even a week after the fight. It had nearly killed him, and he had enjoyed it.

What he wanted was a Big Bad, some unstoppable evil, or an army of demons, hundreds of them. A fight like that would keep him occupied, and if he was lucky, it might even kill him. 

He briefly wondered if Dracula would return his phone calls.

The thought was pushed out of his mind by the sound of a growl from behind a line of trees just a few feet away. Then he heard a demonic voice speaking in Fyarl. Spike's face brightened. A Fyarl demon might not be fatal, but it would be fun. Then he realized what the demon was saying.

"Kill you, little girl. Foolish girl. Won't even run. Kill."

And then a voice he recognized replied, "Come on you stupid demon! Are you just gonna stand there and growl at me in your stupid demon language? Come and get me!"

It was Dawn.

Spike broke through the trees and lunged at the Fyarl demon. He got in a few good blows before the powerful monster knocked him to the ground. It stood over him, poised to either tear his limbs off or cover him in mucus. It would be a disgusting way to go, but Spike was ready.

"Bloody do it," Spike said. The Fyarl demon smiled. It understood English. "Kill me," Spike said.

"Spike! No!" 

Dawn came up behind the demon and kicked it on the leg weakly. It turned to face her.

"Leave him alone!" she said. "Kill *me*."

"What?" Spike leapt to his feet, grabbed the demon by the shoulder, and spun it around. "Don't touch the girl. Kill *me*."

"No!" Dawn squealed. She pounded the Fyral demon on its arm. "Don't listen to him. Kill *me*."

"Sod off, Dawn!" Spike said. He grabbed the demon by both shoulders and shook it violently. "Come on, you bugger! Kill me!"

The demon broke free from Spike. He stood between them, looking back and forth at the vampire and the young girl. "Are you both fucking crazy?"

For a moment the three of them stood there, unsure of what to do next. Then the Fyral demon swiped at Spike with one of his claws, cutting him across the chest. Spike fell to the ground. The Fyral casually walked away as Dawn shrieked and fell to the ground next to Spike.

Spike's eyes were closed. His shirt was torn open and the blood flowed from his wound like a river. Dawn took off her jacket and pressed it against him, trying to stop the blood that now seemed like it was everywhere. "Spike?" she said. When he didn't respond, tears began to form in her eyes. "Spike, please don't die. Please don't die."

Spike's eyes opened. "Calm down, half pint. I'm fine."

Dawn stopped crying and looked at him quizically.

"Sure, it hurts like a bitch, but I'll live." Spike pushed himself into a sitting position. He took off his coat and his shirt and examined the wound. It was deep, and still bleeding. He hugged the jacket to his chest.

"Why were you gonna let that thing kill you?" Dawn asked.

"I should be asking you the same bloody question," Spike said.

"I asked first."

Spike glowered at her. "Don't you have friends somewhere? You know better than to be out alone."

Dawn looked downward. "No, I don't have any friends."

"What about-"

"I'm not hanging out with them anymore," Dawn said. "They'll just feel sorry for me, and treat me like a baby, and…"

"And remind you of Buffy?"

Dawn stood up. "I'm going to find the demon."

"The hell you are!"

Spike was weak, but the bleeding has slowed. He dropped Dawn's blood-soaked jacket to the ground and easily caught up with her.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, grabbing her firmly by the arm. 

"I can do whatever I want to!"

"You'll do what I damn well tell you to do," Spike said angrily. "Here's how it works. I bring you to Giles' house, you meet up with the rest of those blokes, do whatever it is you humans do to mourn, and you all live happily ever after, got it?"

"Let go of me!" Dawn struggled against Spike's grip, but she couldn't break it. "And what about you, Spike? What do you do?"

Spike's gaze was steely and his voice was even. "I die."

"Great plan, genius."

Spike shook her roughly. "Shut up!"

Dawn's face paled and she gulped back a sob. He had hurt her.

Spike sighed and let go of her. "Come on. I'll take you there."

Dawn folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not going."

Spike put his hands to his head and growled in frustration. "Bloody hell, girl! You're more annoying than your sister!"

Spike instantly regretted his words. Dawn's resolve broke and she slumped the ground, covering her face with her hands. Spike just stood there as she cried. After a moment she looked up.

"Buffy died to save me," Dawn said. "How can I keep living knowing that?"

Spike looked down at her. "You got it wrong, Dawnie. I'm the one who should have died." He sat on the ground beside her. "I was ready to. Hell, I even told her I would. But I failed. And so she died. Buffy died, and it should have been me."

Dawn put her arm around Spike's bare shoulders. His skin was cold, but her forehead was warm from crying, and the summer air was stifling. Dawn lay her head against Spike's naked chest, barely noticing the blood that smeared over her face and clung to her hair.

"I don't know if a new slayer's going to be called," Dawn said. "And Faith's in jail. We're still on the Hellmouth and someone needs to fight. You're the only one strong enough to do it."

"I don't care about that," Spike said, his voice a low growl. "I was only fighting to try and get myself killed. Bloody people in this town can die for all I care."

"Even me?"

Spike could feel her breath over his chest, running over him to the beat of her heart, warm and moist on his dead skin.

"I lost my mom," Dawn continued. "And I lost my sister." She looked up at Spike. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears. "You're the only family I have left."

Spike couldn't help it. It was those eyes that always got him. He had seen them for the first time on the night he attacked the high school over three years ago. She was eleven years old then, a young girl with a tiny body and those huge eyes. She had come to parent-teacher night with Joyce, but was separated from her during the fight, and she hid in a classroom as Spike and the other vampires searched the school. Her quick heartbeat was easily audible through the walls. Spike knew that the Slayer had a sister, and when he had walked into the room and seen her, he knew who she was. Dawn had stared up at him, holding her breath, her blood rushing through her body, and her eyes illuminated by the light from the hallway. Spike had told himself that killing her would only piss off the Slayer, and an angry person fought harder than normal. But really it had been her eyes. Huge, bright, innocent but seemingly ancient, staring at him like they could cut through him with a glance. If he has nothing else to live for, he still had that.

"I'll make you a deal, little bit," he said. "I promise not to die, and you promise not to die."

Dawn smiled. "Deal."

Spike kissed Dawn's forehead. She tasted like his blood.


	2. Something Borrowed

Part Two

Part Two:

Something Borrowed

"Let's get married now."

Anya, who was lying in Xander's bed on the verge of sleep, was suddenly wide awake.

"Now?" Anya sat up and looked down over her boyfriend's naked body.

"Well, not *right* now," Xander said. "But as soon as we can. Just tell me what kind of wedding you want, and we'll start planning it."

"But…but it doesn't seem right," Anya said. "To get married after…"

"I know," Xander said. "But you said it to me after Joyce died. Life, death…it's all part of a cycle. Buffy's gone, and I miss her. Every moment I miss her. So I want to do something to show her, and to show everyone, that our lives are going on. And that her death was worth something." Xander sat up in the bed and put his arms around Anya. "I want us to get married."

Anya looked over at him and smiled. "Alright. Let's do it. As soon as possible." She was about to lie back down when a thought occurred to her. "A church wedding. A big wedding in a church."

Xander kissed her gently on the cheek. "Okay. We'll start preparing tomorrow."

*

Dawn woke up in Spike's arms.

Usually he slept with corpses, and Dawn tried to convince him that she didn't mind doing the same, but he told her quite plainly to "shut her annoying created-by-monks mouth". Spike checked them into a motel, where he showered and bandaged his chest. They spent the rest of the night talking about what they should do next. Then Spike, weakened from the blow dealt to him from the Fyral demon, went out to buy blood. Dawn fell asleep on the king-sized bed before he returned. When she woke up, she felt something like soft stone wrapped around her. It was Spike. Her friend. Her family.

He woke up when she pulled herself out of his grasp.

"Morning, love," he said. He rolled over on the bed and pushed the blanket off his body. He was wearing only his jeans, his chest bare except for the bandage across it. "We still got time to do what you wanted?"

"Yeah," Dawn replied. "It's still early."

Spike began tearing the bandage off his chest. "Might as well call the cab now. If it gets too late we won't have the shade by the door."

Dawn walked to the phone and looked down at it, hesitating.

"But we could do this later, nibblet. Tomorrow, next week even." Spike shrugged. "You're still young, and I'm immortal, so we got loads of sodding time. Argh." Spike ripped the rest of the bandage off in one painful motion, and then reached in his coat for a pack of cigarette. "We could order pizza. And rent Blackadder. Bet you never saw it. Bloody funny stuff."

Dawn smiled. "No, we can go. Better to get it over with." She picked up the phone.

"Alright," Spike said. "But another night, I'm making you watch it. All four seasons. Plus the Christmas and Reunion specials." Spike lit the cigarette.

"Those things are unhealthy, you know," Dawn said when she had hung up the phone.

Spike blew a long stream of smoke out through his nose. "Hello? Undead."

"I mean for me," Dawn said, chuckling. "Secondhand smoke is just as bad as smoking."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Rot."

"It's true! Last year we watched this movie in school about it."

Spike gave Dawn a hard look and shamlessly took another drag.

"Of course, if you don't mind me breathing in your evil toxins, I might as well just start smoking." Dawn reached out and grabbed Spike's pack of cigarettes.

"The hell you will!" Spike lunged for Dawn, but she was already in the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

"Hey! Come on, girl. Cab'll be here soon." 

"I'll be out in a minute!" Dawn called out from behind the locked door. "Just as soon as I take up smoking."

"Alright! I'm putting out the fag." Spike dropped his lit cigarette into a cup of water left by the bedside. 

"Can't hear you! Too busy becoming addicted to like, tar and stuff." 

Spike threw his head back and groaned. "And I will never make you breathe my sodding secondhand smoke again!"

The door flew open, and Dawn greeted Spike with a wide, triumphant smile. Almost immediately a car honked outside their room. 

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered.

"We'll talk about the swearing later," Dawn said, as she grabbed her backpack and walked out of the room.

*

"Haven't seen you in church for a while, Alexander."

Anya and Xander sat across from the priest, separated from him by a large, intimidating desk.

"It hasn't been that long, has it?" Xander asked nervously. "Maybe one or ten years."

"Anya Jenkins," the priest said, reading off the sheet of paper he'd had Xander fill out.

"Present!" Anya said.

The priest looked up over his bifocals. "Miss Jenkins, have you received the Sacraments?"

"Sacrawho?" Anya responded.

"Were you Baptised and Confirmed when you were a child?"

"Oh, as a child! No, you see," Anya explained. "Up until about two years ago I was a demo-"

"Protestant!" Xander shouted suddenly. "She was a Protestant. But she converted."

Anya smiled widely. "Yes."

*

The house seemed sterile. All the beds were made, the dishes washed, and the furniture looked as if it hadn't even been touched. Spike could see why Dawn hated it. 

She led him to her small room on the second floor. This too was spotless, though Spike was sure Dawn hadn't left it that way. Dawn went into her closet and began to dig around.

"So the fake family won't be back for a while?"

"Nah," Dawn said from within the closet. "They both work past five. Here it is."

Dawn emerged with a large box. "This is it." She looked at it warily, as if she was unable to move with it in her hands.

Spike reached out to her. "Want me to open it?"

Dawn shook her head. "I should do it."

She placed the box down on the bed and opened it. One by one, she removed each item and named it.

"This is a plant I took off a grave. This is a statue I took from a crypt. This is a book I took from the Magic Shop…you remember this book. This is a necklace I took from the fake mother. These are earrings I took from Anya. This is a jewel I took from a crypt. And this is a book I took from Willow and Tara."

Dawn sat down on the bed, as if exhausted by the effort. Spike began putting everything back inside the box.

"So how do I do this?" she asked.

"Dunno," Spike said. "I've stolen plenty in my 127 years, but I've never returned anything."

"Not stolen," Dawn said softly. "Just…borrowed." She sighed. "We better get this over with before I totally chicken out."

"Just one problem, sweet bit. We barely got here without me frying."

"I'm way ahead of you, big brother." Dawn reached into the closet and took out a large umbrella and a hat.

*

"And as we all remember from my horrible experience, a Fyral demon is quite-"

"Pink and blue!"

Giles, Willow, Tara, and Xander all turned to stare at Anya.

"For our wedding," Anya said. "We should have pink and blue as the colors."

"As excited as I am about your impending nuptials," Giles said. "There's a Fyral demon in town, and we must concentrate our energies on-"

"Clouds!" Willow said. "You could have clouds as the theme."

"Ooo yeah, and little plastic angels." Tara said.

Giles sat down. "I give up."

A knock on the door distracted them all from continuing the discussion.

"Who could that be?" Xander asked. 

The door swung open and Dawn stepped in.

"Dawnie!" Willow had her arms around her in a moment.

"You're okay," Tara said, coming up beside them. "We were worried about you."

"Dawnster!" Xander took his turn at a hug.

"Come in, Dawn," Giles said. "Sit down."

"Um…" Dawn gestured outside the doorway. Spike stood holding a small cardboard box and a large blue umbrella. A wide-brimmed women's winter hat rested on top of his head. Regardless of these precautions, a thin line of smoke was rising from Spike's neckline.

Giles stifled a laugh.

"Bugger off, Rupert! Invite me in!"

"Of course, Spike, come in," Giles said, chuckling.

*

"I'm sorry," Dawn said, so softly that she didn't think Anya heard her until she felt Anya's hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright," Anya said. "Really. They didn't even cost a lot of money."

Anya placed her earrings down on the table.

"It's very brave what you've done today," Giles said. "I hope you can continue to um…show such strength."

Spike looked up from the bag of Doritos he was attacking. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Giles sighed. "Spike, you don't need to eat for sustenance. Why are you consuming my food like an animal?"

Spike held up the bag, displaying the front label. "New and cheesier. Now tell the girl what you mean."

"Dawn," Giles said. "You need to be more…uh…accepting of your foster parents."

"No," Dawn said immediately. "No, I hate them. I hate being there."

"But you must understand," Giles continued. "If you leave their care permanently, or if they become tired of your rebelliousness, they can report it to Social Services. If this happens, you'll be placed in a group home with security measures. And since there are no such facilities in Sunnydale, that means you'll be moved away from us."

"No," Dawn said, her eyes filling with tears. "They can't do that. You guys are all I have left! They can't just -"

"They won't," Spike interrupted. "You hear that, little bit? You do whatever the hell you want, and no one's taking you out of Sunnydale. No one's taking you anywhere."

Giles sighed. "Spike, you're making an impossible promise."

"Sod off! She's miserable with those wankers, so she's not going back there. And no one takes her away. Even if they find her, they won't take her. Not from me."

"But Spike," Willow said. "The people from Social Services, the police, they're all human. You can't hurt them." 

Spike put the bag of Doritos down and looked away from the group. "Chip doesn't work."

It was so silent they could hear the refrigerator humming in the next room.

"It doesn't?" Dawn said quietly.

"When did this happen?" Xander asked.

"Right after…" Spike stood up. "During the big fight with Glory. I pushed one of the crazies out of the way and I didn't feel a thing. And since then…I've tested it. Time ran out, bloody battery went dead, whatever. It doesn't work."

"Have you, ya know, killed people?" Tara asked.

Spike groaned and paced to the other side of the room.

"Have you?" Dawn choked out.

"No," Spike said. "Are you happy? I haven't killed one sodding person. I started a fight in a bar, just to test it out, but I left the guy alive. Barely a scratch on him. So now you can all do the Spike's-A-Big-Nancy-Boy dance, and then Dawn and I will be on our way."

"How exactly does that dance go?" Xander said. "Because I would very much like to do it."

"Regardless of this discovery," Giles said. "Spike, Dawn's a young girl. She needs a structure. She needs a family."

"You guys are my family," Dawn said. "And I think I've been through enough lately that I don't need to be all emotionally protected."

Giles continued to stare at Spike. "And now we also have to determine if you can still be trusted."

Dawn stood up quickly. "No, Giles, he saved me, just last night!" 

A low growl came from Spike's throat. "I'm going out for a walk and a smoke," he said. He tore his gaze away from Giles and locked eyes with Dawn. "I'll be back."

*

The sun had just set when Spike left Giles' apartment. He really wanted to kill that man, but he knew that would only make matters worse. 

He strolled down the main street of town, chain-smoking and trying to push murderous images out of his mind. A few people sat in the coffee shop, but it was too early for Sunnydale's pathetic excuse for a nightlife to begin. As Spike passed a boarded-up building, he suddenly thought of how he could use the early-evening quiet to his advantage.

Sunny Jewelry had been closed for at least a year. Rumor was that the owners had been killed by vampires, and their corpses left to rot until the smell became overpowering to people walking down the sidewalk. With decomposing flesh came rats, and since few people wanted to buy a place with that kind of reputation, the building had been condemned. 

Spike wondered if anything had been left behind. He could take something for Dawn, something to cheer her up. He would tell her he'd bought it. She'd given up her stealing, but Spike had made no similar vow. Besides, a bit of destruction would make him feel like less of a pansy for just revealing his dark secret to a group of people he despised.

After making sure that no one was around to see him, Spike easily elbowed in the boards covering the door and entered he dark building.

The room still smelled like death and vermin, but just as Spike had suspected, some of the old wares had been left behind. A few necklaces lay forgotten in the display case. He was about to smash in the glass when he heard a voice.

It took him only a second to discern that it was coming from the back room. He crept to the door silently, and pushed it open just a fraction of an inch. The voice was clear now.

"I know I'm bad. I'm sorry, Daddy. Please don't go. I know I'm a terrible, terrible person, but just don't leave us. Please don't leave us! Ooooh, it's all my fault! I'm so horrible! I'm so bad!"

Spike recognized the voice immediately, and another slight push of the door confirmed it.

It was Buffy.


	3. The Glow of Life

Part Three:  
The Glow of Life  
  
  
"So? What does it say?"  
  
Dawn looked closely at the crystal in Tara's hands. She couldn't see anything in it, but Tara seemed to be studying its small, sharp ridges.  
  
"It says you're kind, and you care for others, and that you're important in the world," Tara finally deduced.   
  
"Well, I get that last part," Dawn said. "Important to the world as in I almost ended it."  
  
Tara and Willow exchanged worried glances.  
  
"Oh, I have the Murof!" Willow began digging in her bag.  
  
"Ma-what?" Dawn asked.  
  
"You'll love it Dawnie," Tara said. "It's really the most fun you can have with a...um...rock."  
  
Giles, who had been looking through the books in his bedroom, walked out to the living room to join them. "Are Xander and Anya back yet?"  
  
"No," Willow replied.  
  
"I told you we shoulda waited until Spike came back," Dawn said. "Xander and Anya could get hurt."  
  
"Don't worry," Tara told her. "They're not trying to hurt the Fyral, just trying to find it."  
  
"And what if it finds them first?" Dawn countered.  
  
"Not to worry," Giles said, returning to the open book on his desk. "I'm sure they'll be back shortly."  
  
"Found it," Willow said, removing a stone from her bag. It was round and smooth, like a regular rock, but clear as glass.   
  
"So what's it do?" Dawn asked her.  
  
"The Murof is also called the Life Stone," Willow explained. "Ancient cults in Asia used it for burial rituals. See, the Life Stone detects living energy. So when someone died, one of the priests would place it above their body. This way they could make sure that it was death and not just a coma or trance. Also good in detecting vamps." Willow held the stone in the palm of her hand and concentrated on it. It began to glow a dusty blue and then levitate slightly above her hand.  
  
"Here, hold your hand out," Willow said. She put her hand near Dawn's and slid the stone to her, where it continued to glow and float.  
  
"Wow, cool," Dawn said.  
  
The door suddenly banged open. Dawn dropped the stone and Giles jumped in his chair. Spike walked in, carrying his jacket and his shirt, the previous night's wound on his chest bleeding again.  
  
"Spike! Are you okay?" Dawn asked, standing up.  
  
"Fine," Spike said. "Thought this sodding thing was healed, but it must've been deeper than I thought. Just started up again out of nowhere." He looked at Giles. "Got some bandages?"  
  
Giles nodded and walked to the bathroom. Spike followed close behind.  
  
*  
  
Spike shut the bathroom door behind them and blurted out, "I saw Buffy."  
  
Giles dropped the gauze and tape he had been holding. "What?"  
  
"I went into the abandoned building on Main Street, and I saw her. She was there."  
  
"Spike, are you sure you're not...I mean...can vampires hallucinate?"  
  
"I'm not crazy, you poncy bugger. I saw her."  
  
Giles considered this briefly. "We should tell the others. We should go there."  
  
Giles took a step towards the door, but Spike stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Wait. What about..."  
  
Giles finished the thought for him. "Dawn."  
  
"I'm not saying the girl shouldn't know. Just..." Spike sighed and averted his eyes. "Let's make sure I'm not a bloody lunatic before we get her all worked up."  
  
*  
  
By the time Giles and Spike came out of the bathroom, Xander and Anya had returned with no news of the Fyral demon. Giles sent Anya and Dawn to the Magic Shop to pick up a book of his that contained information about the Fyral.  
  
When the two women had left, Giles sat on a chair in the living room and gestured for Willow, Tara, Xander, and Spike to do the same.  
  
"Something has happened." Giles said. He looked at Spike as the shirtless vampire settled into a seat. "Tell them Spike. And...try not to bleed on my couch."   
  
Spike gave Giles the finger.  
  
Giles sighed. "I've just had it steam-cleaned."  
  
"What is it?" Willow asked. "What's happened?"  
  
"I was breaking into the abandoned jewlry store on Main Street," Spike began, "and I saw...I saw Buffy there."  
  
"Buffy?" Xander asked, shocked.   
  
"Was she...alive?" Tara asked timidly.  
  
"Seemed like it," Spike said.   
  
"Did you talk to her?" Willow asked.  
  
"I would've, but here's the thing. She was kind of...insane."  
  
"Insane how?" Tara asked. "Like, insane me?"  
  
"No, she was talking to herself. Having a whole bloody conversation with no one else around."  
  
"Is it possible?" Xander asked. "Could she really come back? I mean, Angel did, right?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "Angel wasn't dead, he was just in another dimension. For Buffy to come back, it would have to be some sort of magical resurrection. And those types of spells are unreliable. The person could come back as a zombie, or...or..."  
  
"Insane?" Spike asked flatly.  
  
Giles nodded. "I'm afraid it's possible that this may be the case."  
  
Tara paled. "You don't think Dawn would have-"  
  
"Not a chance," Spike cut in. "She couldn't get the egg without me."  
  
"What?" Tara said.  
  
"What? Nothing."  
  
Xander stood up and began to pace. "But there are other options. It doesn't have to be zombie-Buffy. We've seen people have doubles before. Like when Toth split me in half."  
  
"That couldn't be it, there was nothing to split." Willow argued. "But it could be a shape-shifting demon, like the Hansel and Gretel demons who tried to have us burned at the stake."  
  
"Possibly," Giles said.   
  
"Or the same person from an alternate reality, like vampire Willow." Xander added.  
  
Spike raised his eyebrows. "Vampire Willow?"  
  
"Yeah, in this alternate reality, Willow was a vampire." Xander explained to him. "She was all vicious and wore leather and grabbed my ass."  
  
"I can't imagine," Spike said. He smiled at Willow, his tongue dancing on his lower lip. "Don't suppose you'd like to give us a little demonstration, help my imagination out."  
  
"Spike, if you could please put your mind back...in your pants..." Giles stood up. "The only way we can be certain is to see her. Let's hurry. That way, if we're wrong, we can be back here without Dawn be any the wiser."  
  
*  
  
The store was just as Spike had left it: the broken door, the stench of death, the discarded and dusty jewlry, and the sound of their dead friend.  
  
"All my fault, I know," came Buffy's voice from the back room. It was strained, and sounded as if she had been crying. "I could have killed him that night in the mall, but I didn't. If I had, he wouldn't have killed you. So it's my fault you died. I killed you."  
  
"That's right, Buffy. You killed me. You know what you have to do now to make it better. Embrace your darkness, and kill them all."  
  
Spike didn't recognize the second voice, but he could tell that Giles did, from the sudden pallor of the Watcher's face, the weakening of his knees, and the name that escaped his lips like a breath: "Jenny."  
  
Xander was the first one in the door.  
  
"Buffy," he said.  
  
Buffy turned to face him. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn the night she died, though the white shirt was gray with dirt and splattered with blood. Her hair was loose and long, also marred by filth, hanging in clumps and knots. But other than her neglected appearance, and her tear-streaked face, she seemed to be herself. The glow in her eyes was distinctly her. And as Spike entered the room behind the others, he could smell it.  
  
It was Buffy. And she was human.  
  
Her eyes were locked on Xander's. She took a step closer to him.   
  
"Buffy, what's going on?" Xander asked.  
  
Buffy gestured to the dark-haired woman standing behind her. "Miss Calendar. Remember, Xander? Remember when Angel killed her?" Buffy turned and looked at the woman sadly. "It was my fault. I had a chance to kill him, but I couldn't do it. So it's really all my fault that she died."  
  
The air was heavy with dust. Buffy and Jenny Callendar stood on the far side of the room, and Xander, Willow, Spike, Tara, and Giles stood on the other side, just beyond the doorway. Willow brushed past Spike to inch closer to Buffy.  
  
"Miss Callendar is *still* dead," Willow said gently. "This isn't Miss Callendar. Trust me, Buffy; I can feel it, it's not her."  
  
Then what is it? Spike thought.  
  
"The first evil."   
  
Spike looked around to see where the voice had come from, and was about to start shouting when he realized that the sound had been in his mind. He looked over at Willow. Apparently the little trick she had done during the battle with Glory was only a warm-up. Now she had found a way to not only speak to him telepathically, but to read his thoughts as well. He could have sworn it was impossible to read a vampire's mind. Crafty little bitch, he thought.  
  
Willow shot him a nasty look and Spike heard her voice again, though her lips weren't moving. "Can you tell?"  
  
Spike nodded slightly. Human, he thought. And definetly Buffy. But what's a bleeding first evil?  
  
Willow turned away from him. "I'll explain later."  
  
"Buffy," Giles said, stepping forward. "You need to come with us. We can help you."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Help me? I'm beyond help, Giles. I've done too many horrible things. I'm responsible for Miss Callendar's death. And Giles - I let him torture you, and then tried to defend him! Xander - your best friend, Jesse, remember? He blames me too."  
  
"Blames you?" Xander said. "Buffy, he can't blame anyone. He's dead."  
  
Buffy shook her head sadly. "They're not dead. Miss Callendar, Jesse, Kendra, Forrest, my mom." She looked around the room slowly. "They're all here. Them and more. All over."  
  
"No, Buffy," Willow said. She walked up to Buffy and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Do you remember Christmas, two years ago? Do you remember what happened to Angel?"  
  
"Let go of me," Buffy said softly.   
  
"Listen to me!" Willow shouted. "Don't you remember-"  
  
Effortlessly, Buffy lifted Willow off her feet and threw her against the far wall. The crack of her back against the concrete echoed through the small room. Tara rushed to her side as she slid to the floor.  
  
"I thought I knew, who I was," Buffy said, advancing on them, her eyes dark and malicious, "and what was to come. But I was wrong. I'm a horrible, disgusting, evil creature. I accept it. I embrace it."  
  
"Buffy..." Xander reached out to her, but caught only a blow to the face. When Giles and Spike attempted to get between she and Xander, they were thrown against each other with such force that Spike felt his teeth rattle in his skull.  
  
They looked up when they heard the laughing. Buffy stood over the five fallen bodies,   
smiling like the friend they all remembered. But something different shone in her eyes now. She stepped over them, followed by Jenny Callendar, and walked to the doorway, where she turned to face them again.  
  
"You think that was bad? Just wait." Buffy grinned and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I haven't even begun."  
  



	4. Evil

Part Four:  
Evil  
  
The coffee shop was crowded, but they had managed to find a large table in the back. Tara was rubbing Willow's back, an act that would seem innocent to a passerby. But though Willow remained calm and pretended to be unhurt, small tears of pain kept appearing in her eyes as she explained the story of the First Evil to Spike. Tara was muttering under her breath in Latin. Xander held a cup of iced coffee to his chin, but his jaw was swelling quickly. Spike leaned forward to pour some liquor into his hot drink and heard his shirt crunch with dried blood.  
  
"After Angel came back from Acathla's dimension," Willow continued, "he started getting haunted by all the people he had killed. Something called the First Evil took credit for trying to drive Angel mad, and for bringing him back to our dimension in the first place. The First Evil took the form of Jenny Callendar, the teacher who had tried to restore Angel's soul, and had been murdered for it."  
  
Spike nodded. He remembered who Jenny Callendar was now.  
  
"The First Evil was apparently trying to get Angel to return to his evil ways and kill Buffy. It seems that now this creature is doing the same thing to Buffy."  
  
"I don't get it," Spike said. "If the Big Bad Poof could get through it alright, Buffy should be able to."  
  
"Angel was only haunted for a few days," Willow explained. "We found out what was going on and we were able to help him. But if the First Evil is doing the same thing to Buffy...it could've been going on since the moment Buffy died."  
  
"Which is almost two months ago," Xander said.  
  
"Imagine," Willow went on. "Spending two months in isolation, your only contact being with a powerful spirit intent on driving you insane."  
  
Tara faltered in her Latin recitation.   
  
"That's enough honey. Thanks." Willow said.  
  
"I can barely..." Tara shivered at the memory. "I was trapped in my mind for only a few days, but it took two weeks for me to feel even remotely normal again. It must be horrible..."  
  
Willow put her hand on Tara's shoulder and continued. "We still may be able to help Buffy, but we have to be able to get close to her, restrain her."  
  
"And as long as she's still the Ass-Kicking-Chosen-One..." Xander said.  
  
"We don't have a chance in hell," Spike finished.  
  
The group fell into a sad silence as Giles walked over to the table.  
  
"They're okay?" Xander asked.  
  
Giles nodded. "I told them there had been a vampire attack, and to stay in the Magic Shop until we came for them." He sat down. "It's getting late, so we need only decide on a short-term plan of action."  
  
"She's after us," Willow said. "We shouldn't go home."  
  
"I agree," Giles said. "We should stay somewhere Buffy wouldn't think to look, and then gather again tomorrow. But perhaps Spike could stay out and patrol. Buffy will be relocating, and it would be a great help to us to know where she'll be."  
  
"We could go to the motel by the train station," Xander said.   
  
Willow nodded. "We should all be safe for the night if we stick together."  
  
"Uh...excuse me," Spike said. "Can I say something?"  
  
They looked at Spike expectantly as he slowly rose to his feet.   
  
"YOU ARE ALL A BUNCH OF KNOBS!" he bellowed, and then he sat back down and gulped the rest of his drink.  
  
"Care to elaborate?" Giles snapped sarcastically.  
  
"What's a knob?" Xander asked.  
  
"Let me ask you this," Spike said. "What is Buffy after? More than anything else, what is she after right now?"  
  
"I'd guess us," Xander said. "She said she embraced her dark slayer mojo and was just getting started, so I'd bet she wants to prove it to us."  
  
Spike shook his head. "If she's as far gone as she seems, she doesn't need any sodding validation. Try again." The table was silent. Spike sighed in frustration and gestured at Giles. "Come on, Rupes! Haven't you figured it all out yet, with your enormous squishy frontal lobes?"  
  
Four sets of eyes stared at Spike, unblinking.  
  
"Dawn, you worthless lot of buggering bastards!" Spike stood up and leaned forward on the table. "If Buffy's as bad as this Hallucino-Spirit would have us believe, wouldn't she go for vengeance? Wouldn't she want to kill the one person she could blame for causing her death?"  
  
"That's... certainly possible," Giles said slowly.  
  
"And if Super-Evil-Buffy gets to Dawn, or any of us, *I'm* the bloke you want there. Sure, she's stronger than me, but I can give her a run for her money, or at least hold her off while you lot scurry away like rats. None of you pansies are near as tough as I am, so-"  
  
With a flick of Willow's wrist, Spike's hands came out from under him and he banged his head on the table.  
  
"Bloody hell!" he screamed as he fell back into his chair, hand to his head.  
  
"Let's not get into an argument about who's strongest," Willow said. "But Spike's right on one count. Dawn could be in danger, and he should be the one to protect her."  
  
Spike straightened up, still wincing from the pain. "Sure, Red, if you don't mind protecting *me*." He smirked. "Wouldn't mind sharing a room with you, especially if you took out some of your old leather and let me -" Spike's head hit the table again, this time with even more force. "ARGH!"   
  
He looked back up just as Tara was lowering her hand.  
  
"Bloody crazed lesbian witches," Spike muttered.  
  
*  
  
Dawn groaned and tapped her fingers on the countertop. She was tired of waiting. Since when were some vampires such a big deal anyway?  
  
"Anya?"  
  
Anya looked up from the shelf behind the counter where she was doing inventory. "Yes?"  
  
"I was wondering," Dawn said. "When you were a demon, were you like, really evil?"  
  
"Hm," Anya replied. "Not *really* evil. Moderately evil, perhaps."  
  
Dawn grabbed a pair of chicken feet off the counter and started playing with them. "Are all demons evil?"  
  
"Most are. But there are plenty who are regular people. They just want to live a good life, find someone they love, get married..."  
  
"What about vampires? I mean," Dawn continued. "Are vampires *always* evil?"  
  
Anya put down her papers and turned to face Dawn. "You're worried about Spike, aren't you?" She made a dismissive wave of her hand. "You shouldn't be. He's not evil."  
  
Dawn was surprised. "But how can you be so sure?"  
  
"Willow told me," Anya replied confidently.  
  
"And how does Willow know?"  
  
"That's right," Anya said. "You weren't around when she told us all what happened." Anya hesitated. "During the fight with Glory, someone needed to get to you, to help you. But all the scabby minions were blocking the way. Willow saw a way around this, but she was hurt, and she was too far away to talk to anyone. So she sent a message to Spike, telepathically, telling him to run for it, and then she and Tara used magic to keep the minions from stopping him."  
  
"All that means is that Spike was trying to help Buffy," Dawn argued.  
  
Anya shook her head. "That's not the point. The point is that Willow was in Spike's mind. She sent him a message, which isn't really all that hard for a witch. But - she was able to read his thoughts."  
  
"So?" Dawn said. Then it hit her. "Wait a minute. That one time, when Buffy was telepathic, she couldn't read Angel's thoughts." Dawn chuckled. "I remember because she was practicing on me. But when she read my mind she found out that I snooped in her diary, and she didn't speak to me for a week." A laugh caught itself in Dawn's throat. "I miss her so much. And...and I like Spike. He's been nice to me. But I can't help but think..."  
  
"He's not evil," Anya said. "The plain fact that Willow can read his thoughts, when it should be impossible, proves that something is up. I was a demon for a long time, and when you met one that didn't conform to the normal rules, you knew there was something special about them. Something more than any old evil power. Something higher."  
  
Dawn considered this. "Really? Higher?"  
  
Anya nodded. "Also, Willow said that when she was reading Spike's mind then, all he was thinking about was you."  
  
Dawn put down the chicken feet and smiled.  
  
*  
  
The motel by the railroad station was built back when railroads were the new and exciting way to travel. So when Spike and Dawn checked into their room, they were greeted by peeling wallpaper and an uneven floor.  
  
"This is grosser than your crypt was," Dawn said, tossing her backpack on one of the double beds. "And do vamps have no sense of smell? Cause no offense, but your place stunk." She went to the TV and began inspecting it.  
  
Spike took special care in locking the door and pulling the blinds shut. "It's too late for anything good to be on the telly," he told her.  
  
Dawn picked a laminated piece of paper up from the dresser beside the TV. "Sure there is, it just says you have to pay for it." She read through the list. "What kinds of movies are *these*?"  
  
Spike snatched the paper out of her hand and stuffed it in a drawer. Dawn giggled. She'd known exactly what she'd been looking at, and was just trying to get a rise out of Spike.  
  
Spike playfully pushed her shoulder. "Come on, little bit, get ready for bed."   
  
Dawn went to her backpack, sat on the bed cross-legged, and began rifling through her things. "I don't see why we couldn't just stay at that other motel again."  
  
Spike turned away so that she wouldn't see the panic in his eyes.   
  
Dawn brushed her hair, put it up in a ponytail, and then proclaimed that she was ready for bed.  
  
"You've been wearing those clothes for two days," Spike said. "You don't have anything else with you?"  
  
Dawn shook her head. "And if that was an invitation to buy me stuff, I accept." She giggled again. Something must have happened at the Magic Shop to make her cheerful. Which only made what Spike had to do that much harder.  
  
"At least tell me you've got a bloody toothbrush, girl."  
  
Dawn rolled her eyes, pulled a toothbrush out of her bag, and went into the bathroom.  
  
Spike sat down on the other bed and put his head in his hands. When he had insisted he stay with Dawn, the burden of telling her about her sister's reappearance fell to him. Even if he was able to fully explain it, he didn't know how he would be able to stand being witness to Dawn's reaction.  
  
When Dawn came out of the bathroom, she took a few big steps, and then made a flying leap onto the bed. She jumped on it a few times before falling into a sitting position. She looked over to see Spike sitting on his bed with his shirt off, and using it to scrub flakes of dried blood off his chest.  
  
"Ew," she said.  
  
"Come here, I've got a present for you."  
  
"Really?"   
  
Dawn bounded over to Spike and sat beside him. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a necklace. It had a thin gold chain, and a small gold pendant shaped like a sun. He put it into her hand.  
  
"It's beautiful. Thank you." She tore her gaze from the piece of jewelry and looked up at him suspiciously. "Tell me you didn't steal it."  
  
Spike grinned. "I didn't steal it."  
  
"Liar."  
  
Spike's smile faded slowly as he watched Dawn pull her thick hair back and put on the necklace. Something about jewelry always made a girl look older. On most it was ridiculous, like a little girl dressed up in her mother's things. Spike had seen plenty of these types in his time, striding down city streets at night, holding their heads high with false pride and flirting with grown men. He thought of this behavior as distinctly American, and completely repulsive. In the old days he wouldn't drink from a girl like that even if he was starving.  
  
But Dawn wasn't like that. As she arranged the pendant on top of her small cotton shirt, Spike could see the woman in her. Perhaps it was the events of the past six months: finding out about her origin, losing her mother, fearing for her life, and watching her sister die. Trauma could make a person grow up really fast.  
  
"Something's happening," Spike said ominously. "Something bad."  
  
Dawn nodded. "I figured as much." She noticed Spike's pained expression and touched his bare shoulder. It was firm and cold, and the warmth of her soft hand seemed to melt into his flesh. "Don't worry; I can deal. You've been so good to me. I just wonder: Who's going to look after you?"  
  
Spike chuckled sadly. "Demons, monsters. Aren't these things supposed to take care of themselves?"  
  
"Like...a higher power guiding us?"   
  
"I'm pretty sure that's not what I meant, nibblet."  
  
They sat completely still for a moment, knowing that there were words needing to be said, but unsure of how to begin. Finally Dawn took a deep breath and put her hand to her chest, where she fingered the tiny gold sun. "Buffy," she said - and it seemed as if it had taken all the energy in her small body to speak her name, "told me that the hardest thing to do in the world is live in it. She told me I have to be brave." Their eyes locked, Spike's quick and nervous, Dawn's calm, understanding, and seeming to sparkle with the ancient energy that had formed her "You're brave, Spike. And as long as you're around, I can be too. Tell me."  



	5. The Shopping Maul

Part Five:  
The Shopping Maul  
  
Anya struggled to catch her breath as she climbed off of Xander's body. She collapsed on top of the stiff sheets. In the immediate absence of sex, the reality of the day's events fell around them, mixed with fear and the motel room's ample dust.  
  
"I guess we're postponing the wedding," Anya said.  
  
"No."  
  
Anya turned to him, surprised. "But...with everything happening..."  
  
Xander put his arm around her and pulled her body closer to his. "Something's always happening," he said. "Some great evil is rising all the time. We may not always beat it, but as long as we live our lives, and hold on to the things that make us happy, we always win."  
  
Anya smiled. "How did you get so wise?"  
  
Xander let his hand softly caress his fiancée's cheek. "I have this great girlfriend who's lived for a millennia."  
  
*  
  
It was late morning when Giles knocked on the motel room door. When there was no answer, he knocked harder. The door finally swung open, allowing the sunlight to wash over the threshold.  
  
"Shhhh. Ow, dammit." Spike leapt back into the room, skin smoking, and gestured for Giles to follow him quietly. They crept past Dawn's sleeping form and went into the bathroom.  
  
"How is she?" Giles asked. "Did you tell her about Buffy?"  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"And did she take it badly?"  
  
"Badly would be a bloody understatement," Spike explained. "She didn't believe me at first. Started screaming that I was evil and tried to run out of the room. I restrained her, of course, but it wasn't without injuries."  
  
"You hurt her?"  
  
"Other way around, old man." Spike held out his arms to show Giles rows of healing scratches and tooth-shaped cuts. "Lost a bit of hair too. And we thought big sis was the sodding warrior."  
  
"But she calmed down eventually?"  
  
"After a few hours of beating the living hell out of me, and then a few hours of hysterical crying, yeah, she calmed down."   
  
Giles sighed sadly. "She was probably just beginning to accept that Buffy was dead. Now she has to accept that Buffy is alive and trying to kill her. It must be terrible."  
  
"Not a picnic for me either. Get one of the witches to look after her. I gotta kill something."  
  
Giles knitted his eyebrows together. "Kill something?"  
  
Spike groaned. "Not people, I bloody promise."  
  
Giles looked unconvinced.  
  
"There's an entrance to the sewers in the basement," Spike explained. "If nothing else, I'll at least find me a vamp nest. Plus we've still got a Fyral demon on the loose. And I'll be sure to ask before I decapitate; maybe someone's seen Buffy."  
  
*  
  
Spike walked through the sewers slowly, careful not to make any noise that would alert the underground monsters to his presence. The long night with Dawn had been trying, and he needed some serious violence to work through everything that was crowding together in his mind.  
  
He didn't mind that she had attacked him. And he had expected the crying. Neither of those things had really bothered him.  
  
What did bother him, and what he didn't tell Giles, happened as Dawn was finally drifting off to sleep. For the first time in a hundred years, Spike had unconsciously started breathing.  
  
Spike breathed often. He would breathe to smoke, of course, and he would also do it anytime he wanted to be perceived as human. But since it hadn't been necessary to his life for over a decade, it always took a conscious effort. However, just a few hours ago, he was lying on the small, hard bed next to Dawn. She had her face buried in his neck, and her sobs were just starting to subside, more from exhaustion than anything else. Spike had stopped trying to rationalize with her after she first drew blood from him, so by then he just lay next to her, with one hand on her back and the other trying to calm her by slowly caressing the side of her face. It went on that way for a while, and then Spike noticed that he was breathing.  
  
It was strange to feel himself taking in breaths, and for a moment he almost blew it off as a fluke. But then he realized that he was breathing differently than a human normally would. It was deeper and faster, but not the puffing of a frightened, hunted human. It wasn't fear. Not excitement either, but almost that. Then it hit him.  
  
It was happiness. It was love.  
  
The realization made Spike want to throw up.  
  
Not that he didn't like the girl. She was the one who had kept him from offing himself. He felt this fierce desire to protect her, and he genuinely enjoyed being around her. But he couldn't love her. He couldn't find happiness with her. He knew these things.  
  
For a vampire, happiness came from the kill, and love came from sadomasochism. What he and Drusilla had was true vampire love. And when he was left without her, he turned to the only other person on Earth who could kick his ass and make him like it: Buffy.  
  
But Dawn was nothing like Buffy. Their relationship was so much different. And she had called him her brother.  
  
Spike was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of someone approaching.  
  
*  
  
The three vampires walking through the sewers were anxious for night to fall. The previous night they had killed a wealthy young woman, and Phillip's pockets were stuffed with cash. Phillip was the unofficial leader of the group, having been turned first. It was only six months ago that he'd been walking home from school when a stranger grabbed him and effortlessly sunk his teeth into Phillip's neck. He laughed to himself now, when he thought of how frightened he had been that night, the night he died. Now nothing scared him anymore.  
  
He had turned his friends Eric and Tyler shortly after his own dark transformation. Together they had killed the anonymous woman, chosen only for her expensive-looking clothing and the foolishness she displayed by walking alone after dark on an unpopulated street.  
  
Phillip led the attack, taking the woman from behind and drinking deeply from her flesh before she even had a chance to scream. Eric and Tyler took her arms and sliced open the bulging blue vein on each wrist with their razor-sharp teeth. With her head thrown back limply and her arms extended, it looked like a bizarre crucifixion under the dim light of the half moon. The young vampires had taken every last drop of her blood, and every last cent of her cash.  
  
The trio had no use for money, of course, since they felt fully capable of stealing anything they wanted. But it made them feel more powerful, as if, in the hierarchy of the underground world, these material things actually mattered.  
  
When they rounded the corner they were surprised to see a thin blond man leaning against the wall, casually smoking a cigarette. In the darkness of the sewers he was merely an outline, until a long drag from the cigarette illuminated his face with a dark orange glow.   
  
Phillip knew who he was. For weeks this crazed vampire had been killing mercilessly. There had always been rumors of his viciousness towards his own kind, but recently he had been worse than any story had portrayed him. They said he must have lost his mind, for her dusted vampires and tore apart demons without provocation, as if he just enjoyed killing so much that his bloodlust could never be satiated. Phillip found it all disgusting. A vampire should kill humans, not other vampires. Any idiot knew that.  
  
Phillip gestured to his friends, reached into his jacket, and removed a switchblade. Eric took out a box-cutter. Tyler picked up a discarded length of pipe. They advanced upon the silent vampire bravely. The odds were in their favor. This was going to be easy.  
  
Spike couldn't help but chuckle as he changed into his game face.  
  
Weapons were for poofs.  
  
*  
  
When Spike returned to the motel room, Xander and Anya were sitting on one of the beds, surrounded by discarded fast-food containers. Dawn sat on the other bed, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hand holding a milkshake to her face, and her lips clutching the straw absentmindedly. The flickering colors of the television danced over her body.  
  
She looked up when Spike walked in.  
  
"You're hurt," she said flatly.  
  
Spike took off his coat. He had been stabbed in the shoulder, but not deeply; the wound was already healing. "Not bad." He gestured to Xander and Anya. "What are these wankers doing here? I told Rupert to call in the witches."  
  
"We're just as good as any witches," Xander argued.  
  
"Better!" Anya said proudly.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes and walked to the side of Dawn's bed. "Sun's set, nibblet. What do you say we do some shopping?"  
  
Dawn's mouth remained in a sad line but her eyes seemed to flicker slightly with interest. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. I came into some cash and decided I'm sick of seeing you in those same bloody clothes. So get your shoes on."  
  
Dawn turned away from him. "You shouldn't buy me stuff with money you stole."  
  
Spike sighed. "I stole it from *bad* people, so it's okay." When there was no response, he tugged at his bloodstained shirt. "Need some new things myself, so I'm going with or without you."  
  
"Better take advantage of this, Dawnie," Xander said. "I'd bet that the last time Spike was generous, there was a land bridge from here to Japan."  
  
"Eat me, monkey boy," Spike growled.  
  
*  
  
When Spike had been human, nighttime was much different. A house was engulfed in it, with meager lights battling the shadows. People spent their evenings together, in one room, conserving the finite fire and fearing the things that thrived in the night. But now there were shopping malls, where the ever-present fluorescent glare could make even the darkest night cower.  
  
Spike hated it.  
  
"Bloody stupid America," he said as he and Dawn walked past the many stores with their neon signs and blaring music. "Someday, little bit, I'll take you to another country. Australia maybe. Never been there myself, but I hear it's all trees and ocean and crap. Show you what things looked like before they paved over half the sodding planet."  
  
"If I live that long," Dawn said quietly.  
  
Spike stopped and grabbed her by the shoulders, enough to startle her, but careful not to hurt her. "Dammit, girl. What did I promise you?"  
  
Dawn tried to unsuccessfully to pull away.  
  
"Just two bloody nights ago! What deal did we make?"  
  
Dawn sighed in resignation. "That we wouldn't die."  
  
"That's right," Spike said, releasing her. "So shut up, go into that store, and be a good little consumer.  
  
*  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
Dawn stepped out of the dressing room and twirled around. She was wearing a tight red dress, made out of imitation velvet that begged to be rubbed. It hung well above her knees, exposing her firm and rounded thighs, and dipped low at the neckline, hugging her burgeoning breasts.  
  
"Over my pile of dust!" Spike nudged her back into the stall.  
  
Dawn smirked and admired herself in the mirror. "I'm almost fifteen, you know. Pretty soon boys are gonna ask me out."  
  
"And I will tear out the throats of each and every one of them. Now try on something decent."  
  
Dawn glared at him jokingly. "You are so unfair."  
  
When they left the store, Dawn had chosen two plain cotton t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Her mood seemed to have lightened as she swung the bag by her side and continued teasing Spike.  
  
"Victoria's Secret is right over there," she said.  
  
"No."  
  
"I should have some fancy underwear. You never know when someone might see it."  
  
"If anyone *ever* sees your underwear, I'll personally remove their eyes from their -"  
  
Spike was interrupted by a scream.  
  
*  
  
"So how does this work?" Tara asked.  
  
Willow finished arranging the red candles in a circle around her girlfriend. "Do you remember the spell I used to restrain Glory?"  
  
Tara twisted her mouth into her characteristic half-smile. "I think I was kind of insane at the time."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Willow said, embarrassed. "Well, it worked okay, but it took a lot of energy out of me, and it didn't hold for more than a few seconds. This one should be different."  
  
Tara examined the ordinary-looking sand that accompanied her inside the circle. "What makes it different?"  
  
"This," Willow displayed a bag the size of a quarter, filled with iridescent green herbs. "It's called Agarwal, and it's very rare. Giles had to pay a small fortune for it, and we only have enough to do the spell twice."  
  
"So this is the trial run?"  
  
Willow nodded. "Sure you don't mind?"  
  
"Not at all." Tara held out her arms in mock surrender. "Bind me, baby!"  
  
Willow smiled suggestively. "Later."  
  
With Tara sitting in the center of the circle of candles, Willow began chanting in a language so ancient that it didn't even have a name. As she did this, she sprinkled the Agarwal around Tara. When she had emptied the tiny bag, she stopped chanting and looked down at her girlfriend.  
  
"Did it work?" Tara asked.  
  
"Let's see," Willow said. "Try to move."  
  
Tara went to stand up, but hit her head on an invisible barrier and she fell to her knees. She traced her hands around the circle of candles and found the same resistance. An impenetrable dome had been formed around her.  
  
"You did it!" Tara said, smiling proudly. "So how long will it hold?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "In theory, forever. Which may be how long it takes to de-brainwash Buffy. But at least now we have a chance."  
  
"My brilliant witch," Tara said with a wide smile. "Do you know how much I love you?"  
  
Willow laughed. "Let me remove the barrier, and then you can show me."  
  
*  
  
The Fyral demon effortlessly pushed people out of his way as he approached them. Spike took Dawn by the shoulders and pushed her into the entranceway to a store.  
  
"Stay here," he told her. "Anyone comes near you, you scream my name, got it?"  
  
Dawn nodded, her eyes wide with fear.  
  
Spike had moved only a few feet away from Dawn when the demon was at him, flailing its long arms. One connected with Spike's body, but he remained standing, and returned the attack vigorously. His blows caused it to move backwards, but he couldn't make it fall. Seemingly uninjured, the Fyral demon tore into Spike's stomach with one of its claws.  
  
"Dammit!" Spike said, looking down at the torn cloth hanging over the fresh wound. "I am so bloody sick of buying new shirts!"  
  
With a growl of determination, Spike lunged at the demon, broke its arm, and then knocked its legs out from under it. He straddled it, grabbed its head, and banged it into the floor repeatedly, until blood started spurting from the demon's mouth.  
  
"Slayer says kill," it said in Fyral.  
  
"What?" Spike asked, stunned at the mention of Buffy.   
  
"Slayer has all demons working for her," the demon continued in its language. "Slayer says kill the girl. The girl you protect."  
  
"Does she?" Spike said in Fyral. His eyes sparkled with delight as he leaned close to his victim. "Well, here's what I say to the Slayer."  
  
Spike's face morphed into its demonic visage, and he swiftly tore the Fyral demon's throat out. Its blood was sour, far inferior to humans', but Spike had become used to drinking demon blood lately. After feeding for a moment, he dug his fingers into the wound and pulled downward with all his strength, ripping the large demon's body wide open. Intestines slid onto the floor, and blood spilled - or rather burst - into rushing rivers that continued to throb with the demon's heartbeat until Spike reached into its open chest and tore its heart out.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
Spike was off the demon and by Dawn's side in a moment. She was looking past him and shaking with fear.   
  
"Dawn, it's okay, it's dead," he said.  
  
Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but was only able to point. Spike spun around.  
  
Four more demons were walking towards them.  
  
"Come on!" Spike grabbed Dawn's hand and they ran out of the mall.  
  
*  
  
Xander and Anya sat on one of the beds in Willow and Tara's room. Willow sat on the other bed. Spike sat on top of the dresser, wearing only a pair of jeans, his torso a bloody mess. Giles paced back and forth between them all. Dawn was in the next room with Tara.  
  
"Fyarl," Spike said. "I didn't recognize the others."  
  
"Are you sure?" Giles said. "It would be helpful if we knew what types of demons they were."  
  
"They were big, bumpy, and ugly." Spike said. "Who gives a bleeding hell what they're called in the Almanac of Slime?"  
  
"And the demon you killed," Willow asked. "He said he was working for Buffy?"  
  
Spike nodded. "Said his orders were to kill Dawn."  
  
"She's certainly made friends fast," Anya said softly.  
  
"I'm thinking we need a new plan," Xander said.  
  
"I got a new plan, mates," Spike said. "I take Dawn, and I get the hell out of town."  
  
"Cause that worked so well the last time we tried it," Xander muttered.  
  
"I don't mean drive ten miles away in some piss-poor excuse for an automobile," Spike explained. "I mean get on a plane and fly to the opposite end of the Earth."  
  
"She'll come after you," Giles said.  
  
"Let the bint come," Spike replied. "We'll keep moving. She won't find us."  
  
"That's no life for Dawn to have," Giles countered.  
  
"And this is?" Spike leapt off the dresser. "You bastards can play whatever you like. Do your little spell, put the bitch in a bubble, and then talk about your feelings until the world ends. But I'm taking Dawn, and we're taking off, and if any of you try to stop us, I'll tear your bloody limbs off!"  
  
*  
  
When Spike returned to their room, and sent Tara away with a grunt, Dawn knew that something was wrong.  
  
"What is it?" she asked.  
  
Spike sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. "Remember when I told you about Australia? How'd you like to go see it tomorrow?"  
  
Dawn's face registered no emotion. "We're leaving?"  
  
Spike nodded.  
  
"Is it...is it that bad?"  
  
Spike turned to look at her. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes - those huge eyes that could melt him in a glance - were streaked with tiny red lines. She was afraid.  
  
"No," Spike said. "Willow has a spell that'll keep Buffy restrained until they can get her back to her old self. Still, it could take a while. And we don't need to be taking any chances with your safety, nibblet. So let's go, just you and me, and we'll come back here when we can." He pushed a lock of her thick brown hair away from her face. "What do you say?"  
  
Dawn took a deep breath and looked into Spike's eyes. "Do you think...will they really be able to help her?"  
  
"Absolutely," Spike said, his gaze firm. He took Dawn's hand in his. He was struck by how much smaller and softer it was than his own. He had a sudden urge to kiss it, and he pulled her limp arm slowly, until her hand was at his face. He pressed his lips against her flesh and felt as if he could die in her scent.   
  
Dawn leaned her head against Spike's bare chest. He thought he could hear her heart break with every tender beat. Her breathing was ragged, as if on the verge of tears. Spike wrapped one of his arms around her and pulled her even closer.   
  
"It'll be okay," he said.  
  
Then the window exploded.  
  



	6. Only Death

Part Six:  
Only Death  
  
"Spike!"   
  
Willow put her hands to her head and fell onto the bed. They had all heard the shattering of glass a moment ago, and were about to rush out and investigate when Willow stopped them by shouting the vampire's name.  
  
"What is it?" Tara asked. "What's he saying?"  
  
"Buffy," Willow said. Though her eyes looked towards the others, they were distant and glassy, as if they were only looking inward. "She broke in the window. I pushed Dawn in the bathroom. She's safe but only until Buffy kills me. I'll hold her off as long as I - Oh!" Willow put her hand to her chest. "Bloody hell, the bitch has a knife. Dammit, Willow, get your narrow lesbian ass moving with that spell. And tell that pansy-ass bastard Rupert he can -" Suddenly Willow stopped.  
  
"What is it?" Giles asked, kneeling next to her and taking her hand. "Is Spike...? Has he been...?"  
  
"What?" Willow shook her head and quickly recovered from the experience. "He's fine. It just got too dirty for me to repeat."   
  
She stood. "Listen up. We only have one chance at this, and we need to do it fast."  
  
*  
  
Buffy lifted Spike over her head and threw him against the dresser.  
  
He fell to the prickly motel carpet hard. His entire body seemed covered with blood. Blood seeped from his many chest wounds - including the one which stained the knife tucked into Buffy's pocket - and dripped down to his waist. His bones ached from the impact, and as he struggled to stand he was suddenly aware of a throb in his right temple. He put his hand to it and felt blood begin to ooze out of a fresh wound; his head must have hit a corner of the dresser.   
  
"This is getting boring," Buffy said. Spike looked up to see her slowly approaching his prostrate form. She had cleaned herself up since they'd seen her last: she wore tight jeans and a red sweater that hugged her round breasts. Her hair was clean and pulled back into a ponytail, with soft whisps dancing around her pretty face. Spike pushed himself to his feet.  
  
"And pathetic," Buffy continued. "Do you really want to die here, in a motel in Sunnydale, protecting some stupid little human who doesn't even care about you?" She reached out and put her hand on Spike's shoulder. "I'll give you a chance, Spike. Leave now. Just go, and never come back here, and I'll let you live."  
  
Blood ran into Spike's right eye, blinding him. "Do you really think I'd do that?"  
  
Buffy smiled. "Of course not." She swiftly took her hand from Spike's shoulder and punched him in the mouth. He doubled over, but remained standing.   
  
"Remember, we made a deal like this once before. But you came back. You always say you're leaving, but you always come back."  
  
Buffy kicked Spike in the stomach. He fell into a sitting position and she leapt on top of him, knocking him onto his back and straddling him across the chest. She held her knife to his throat. Spike could smell his own blood on it. "Think you can come back from the dead?" she asked.  
  
"Why not?" Spike said, trying not to show how much pain he was in. "Everyone seems to be doing it lately."  
  
He dug his elbows into the floor and pushed up with all his strength. Buffy was thrown off him, but she landed on her feet, knife still in hand. Spike went to attack her but Buffy easily backhanded him, and he was flung face-down across one of the beds.  
  
"I'm going to kill her," Buffy said. "You can't stop me. All this time, Spike, and you've never once been able to stop me." She walked over to him and stood over his unmoving form.   
  
Spike slowly turned his head towards her. His face changed and his eyes glowed red.   
  
"Ooo. Scary." Buffy said mockingly. "What are you going to do, bite me? You know you can't." She laughed. "You *love* me."  
  
"Lucky for me," Spike said. "I don't have a bloody soul."  
  
He lunged at Buffy, fangs bared, but she stepped back just as he was about to latch onto her neck. Spike advanced on her, blocking her blows and driving her towards the door. Her fist connected with his face, but it wasn't hard enough to stop him; he grabbed her shoulders and threw her with all his strength, splintering the door as her body flew outside.  
  
When Spike stepped through the broken remains of the door, he saw Buffy sitting on the ground outside, blood leaking from her mouth. She put her hand to her mouth, surprized at the injury, then, her eyes growing angry, she reached behind her and withdrew a wooden stake from her waistband.  
  
Willow!, Spike thought.  
  
"Ready!" he heard in his mind.   
  
Spike dashed to the room only a few feet away. Behind him he could hear Buffy getting to his feet and following.  
  
She's right behind me, he thought.  
  
"Get her in the room," he heard. "Get her inside the circle."  
  
Spike burst through the door and into the room. Willow stood just beyond a small circle of red candles. Xander and Giles stood at the back of the room, crossbows ready. Spike stopped within the circle, and turned to the door just as Buffy entered. Willow began chanting softly.  
  
"Come on, bitch," Spike said. "Let's end this, once and for all."  
  
Buffy walked up to Spike, stepping into the circle as well, and brandished the stake. Spike grabbed her wrist and held it, the stake just inches away from his chest. He struggled against Buffy's arm as they pushed in opposite directions. Willow had begun dusting the circle with the Agarwal. The stake inched closer to Spike's chest. He realized that he was going to die, but he didn't care. At least Buffy would be trapped in the circle, trapped between the small red candles, accompanied only by flecks of a bright green herb and the dust that used to be him.  
  
Suddenly Buffy stopped fighting against Spike. She relaxed her arm, but the force of Spike's pushing caused it to fly backwards. The stake fell to the ground. Buffy used her other arm to punch Spike in the face, sending him flying to the ground outside the circle. Then she turned to Willow and grabbed her hand just as she was about to release the last bits of Agarwal.  
  
"How stupid do you think I am, you gay witch slut?" Buffy said viciously.  
  
Still holding on to Willow's hand, Buffy kicked over the candles that surrounded her. Their flames caught on the carpet and started a small fire. Then Buffy put her hands to Willow's head. She held her firmly at the ears, muscles tensed, poised to snap Willow's neck in an instant.  
  
Willow's eyes went wide with fear. "Buffy...please..."  
  
A small cry escaped Buffy's lips, and she released Willow's head. She turned to see Spike standing behind her, his posture weak, his knees faltering, and his face half-hidden by blood. He had retrieved the stake she'd dropped and buried it in her back. Buffy's face flushed with pain. She cried out again as an arrow struck her in the stomach.   
  
Spike heard Willow's voice in his mind again. "Can you knock her out?"  
  
I can try, Spike thought.  
  
Spike reached back to deliver the blow, but Buffy blocked it by grabbing Spike's arm and twisting it. Then she head-butted him hard, and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.  
  
Buffy stood in the center of the room, holding her midsection and panting in pain. For a moment she looked exactly like the girl they had all once loved.   
  
"Buffy," Xander said, lowering his crossbow. "You don't want to do this. We can help you."  
  
"Xander?" Buffy's eyes dampened, and she coughed.  
  
Xander took a step forward. Then he too doubled over, as Buffy withdrew her knife and threw it expertly into his stomach.  
  
"Aggression is a natural human tendency," Buffy said as she back towards the door. "You can't stop it. And you won't stop me. I promise, I'll kill you all."  
  
*  
  
When Spike woke up, Dawn's arms were around him.  
  
His chest had been cleaned off, leaving only the healing cuts that criss-crossed his torso. He was lying on his back on one of the motel room's beds, wearing only his blood-stained pants. Dawn lay asleep next to him, one arm thrown over his injured chest, and her head resting against his arm. He could feel the hard gold of her necklace against his bare flesh.  
  
When Spike looked down at her beautiful sleeping form, and realized that she was unhurt, he started breathing. The up-and-down motion of his body woke Dawn.  
  
"You're alive," she said when she looked up at him. Her eyes seemed relieved at this, but her face was stoic. "I thought maybe you were dead, but Giles said vampires *always* turn to dust when they're dead, but still, since you don't have a heartbeat to check, I was afraid."  
  
"I'm fine," Spike said.  
  
"You know what's funny?" Dawn said sadly. "When I was little, I thought dying was the worst thing that could possibly happen to someone. But then I found out about vampires. How something could kill you, but still keep your body, and make you do terrible things. Then what happened to Tara when Glory hurt her, how she was still alive but not the same person, and you knew that she was somewhere inside there, but you couldn't get to her. And now Buffy...like this...and now it's like..." Her big eyes glistened with tears. "I didn't know that there could be so many things that were worse than dying. Like when I was afraid that Glory would kill me, but I guess that wouldn't have been so bad. I mean, at least it was only death."  
  
Dawn collapsed into weak sobs. Spike sat up and drew her close to him, his arms firm around her small body.  
  
"Dawn..." he said. His voice was deep and masculine, and Dawn, her ear pressed to his chest, felt him speak her name through the vibrations of his body rather than hearing it.  
  
"I know I promised you I wouldn't die," she said through her tears. "And I don't want to. But with all the terrible things that could happen to me...and to you...everyone I know could be killed, and it's all my fault. *Again.* So I might as well just let it happen."  
  
Spike held Dawn tighter, careful not to injure her with his strength, wishing that he could pull her into his body entirely, where nothing could hurt her. Her sobs slowly subsided into ragged breathing. "I won't let you die, nibblet. I don't promise a lot of things, but I promised Buffy I'd protect you till the end of the world, and I promised you the same. But...if you don't have the strength to fight anymore, it's okay. You don't need to fight. That's for me to do. I'll make sure you'll be alright, no matter what it takes, even if it bloody kills me. You just live, that's all I want from you, for you to keep living." He took in a deep breath, and noticed it immediately. Three times in twenty-four hours now he had found himself breathing unconsciously for the first time in a century. And he was sure what it meant. "I love you, Dawn."  
  
He looked down at her to gauge her reaction, but she was fast asleep, warming Spike's chest with her breath. He lay her down on the bed and went outside for a smoke.  
  
*  
  
Spike leaned against a car parked directly outside his motel room door and lit another cigarette. He jumped to attention when he heard a door open, but then relaxed against the car again when he saw that it was only Willow.  
  
She approached him with her characteristic sweet smile. Spike nodded as a greeting.  
  
"Hi," Willow said. "Is Dawn okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Sleeping." He gestured towards the door she had come out of. "How's everyone in your camp?"  
  
"Xander was pretty hurt," Willow said. "But he should be okay. Anya took him to the hospital, just in case."   
  
Spike nodded.  
  
Willow looked out at the parking lot and the railroad tracks beyond it. It was late, and few people were outdoors. The only sound was the wind rustling tree leaves, as if threatening a summer storm.  
"The Agarwal was all burnt," Willow said sadly.  
  
"So that means you can't do the spell again?" Spike asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
"But I'll keep looking." Willow sighed. "It'll take time, but I'll find something to help her."  
  
Spike took a long drag from his cigarette. "Not so sure we have time."  
  
"I know," Willow admitted. "But we have to help her somehow. I can't...I don't think any of us have it in us to kill her."  
  
Spike flicked his cigarette far into the empty night. "I do."  
  
Willow looked as his face. It seemed harder than usual, unlike the Spike she had come to know recently. Do you really mean that?, she thought.  
  
"Dammit, Red, can't you have a normal conversation?" he snapped.  
  
Willow folded her arms across her chest and pouted. "I just wanted to see if you really mean that," she said.  
  
"Uh-huh," Spike said angrily. "So what did you see with your sodding magical mind-reading?"  
  
"You'd do it," Willow said. "You'd kill Buffy, or die trying, because you love Dawn."  
  
Spike groaned and dug in his pocket for another cigarette. "Me and Summers women, right? Turn me into a bloody pansy."  
  
"You're not a pansy," Willow said. "And that's coming from someone who can see into your mind."  
  
"Yeah? So tell me what it's like in there."  
  
Willow considered it for a moment before answering. "You've never felt like you fit in. Even human, and then all the years you were a vampire, you wanted to be a part of something. But a little voice in the back of your mind always told you that you didn't belong. You've spent your whole life - and unlife - trying to prove something. You did it with other vampires, and then you did it recently, with Buffy. But things are different now. Because with Dawn, that feeling starts to disappear. With her, you feel like you belong."  
  
Spike just stared at her, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.  
  
Willow smiled sweetly. "Was I close?"  
  
Spike chuckled. "Hit the nail on the head there, love."  
  
"Go me," Willow said softly.   
  
Spike chuckled.  
  
Willow gestured to her motel room. "Stop by tomorrow. We're going to come up with a new plan."  
  
"You already know my plan, Red," Spike said.   
  
Willow pursed her lips nervously. "And you're going to do it alone?"  
  
"Best for all of us if I do," he replied. "If I don't make it..." He lit his cigarette to keep from having to finish his sentence.  
  
"But what if you *do* make it?"  
  
Spike looked up at Willow questioningly.  
  
"The others won't like it," she told him. "I'm not sure if I like it either. Buffy is our friend, and we love her. We have a chance to have her back."  
  
"No, we don't," Spike said firmly. "We can't beat her; we've seen that already."  
  
"You love her too," Willow said.  
  
"That's why I can't bloody stand seeing her this way," Spike said. "She was a good person, and she deserves peace. What she is now...it's worse than death."  
  
Willow nodded. For a moment they just stood, feeling the warn night air wash over them.  
  
"I need to thank you," Willow said. "You saved my life. I owe you."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Red," Spike said.  
  
"Okay," Willow replied. "But still, if you need any help...with anything..."  
  
"The psychoanalyzing bit was enough, thanks." Spike said. Suddenly his face lit up. "But if you really want to pay me back, you can go get your girlfriend and bring her out here and the three of us could -"  
  
Willow held up her hand to stop him. "Nice to see that you haven't changed *too* much."   
  
"Still a bad ass," Spike said, though he sounded unconvinced.  
  
"Goodnight, Spike," Willow said.  
  



	7. Almost Normal Life

Part Seven:  
Almost Normal Life  
  
  
Xander struggled to sit up in the bed as Anya walked into the hospital room.  
  
"What did they say?" Xander asked.  
  
"You can go in the morning." She sat down in the chair by the bed and put her hand on his arm. "You shouldn't be up and walking anyway. You could pull out the stitches."  
  
Xander leaned back into the bed and groaned. "I hate being here. I just feel so helpless."  
  
"Not much more we can do for Buffy," Anya said sadly. "You know, besides getting our necks snapped and dying."  
  
Xander looked over at his fiancee and noticed the tears filling her eyes.  
  
"Hey," he said, reaching out and grasping her hand. "Don't worry, we'll get her back."  
  
"That's not it," Anya said, "It's just...something like this is *always* happening. A friend goes all evil, or a god wants to kill you, or a robot-monster or giant snake comes along, and it *never ends*. How can we get married and start a family in a place like this?"  
  
"Anya -"  
  
"No," she stood up, tears streaming down her face, and shook her hand out of his. "I can't do this. I love you, Xander. But how can I go on seeing this sort of thing happen to you?"  
  
Xander felt his entire body go cold. "Are you saying you don't want to marry me?"  
  
Anya took a deep breath. "I'm saying...I don't know."  
  
*  
  
Giles had come to their room early in the morning to wake up Spike and Dawn. He told them that Willow and Tara were researching other spells, and Xander and Anya were still at the hospital.   
  
"So um...do you two have any plans for today?" Giles said from where he was leaning against the dresser.  
  
Spike, having changed into a clean pair of jeans, sat on one of the beds rummaging through a pile of his shirts in search of one that wasn't ripped nearly in half or covered in blood. "Whatever the little bit wants," he said. He turned to Dawn, who was sitting on the other bed, playing with her hair and looking morose. "Except we're not going to any sodding stores again," he told Giles. "Girl was putting on short dresses and talking about showing off her knickers." He looked over at Dawn and smiled, hoping for a smart-mouthed retort from her.  
  
"I was just kidding," she said. "I wasn't really gonna show boys my underwear. I haven't even kissed a boy ever. I'm like, the only one in my school who hasn't." She sighed and turned away from them both. "Or at least I *was*, before I stopped going."  
  
Spike pulled the least stained shirt over his head, only to discover a large tear down the center of it. "Bloody hell," he muttered.   
  
"Yes, I remember that you used to like going to school," Giles said. "Perhaps you can start fresh in the fall."  
  
"No I can't," Dawn snapped. "If I show up they'll call Social Services and make me go back with those stupid foster parents."  
  
"But you'd want to go back to school?" Spike asked. He had discarded the torn shirt and found one with only a minor rip in the hem. "That'd make you happy?" He pulled the shirt over his head.  
  
"What would make me happy is a normal life." She chuckled sadly. "Okay, maybe that's too much to ask for when you live on the Hellmouth, your sister is an evil Slayer, you hang out with witches and your best friend is a vampire. Maybe I can't even have a normal life, but...kinda almost normal? Would that be possible?"  
  
Spike and Giles exchanged worried glances. "How about some breakfast?" Spike asked her. "You and Rupert go get something at the diner, I'll go buy some blood, and we'll meet back here."  
  
"Fine," Dawn said sullenly.  
  
*  
  
Willy's bar was empty this early in the morning. When Spike walked in, the chairs were on the tables and Willy was sweeping the floor.  
  
"Spike!" Willy said when he saw the familiar vampire. "Haven't seen you in a while. How's it going? Kinda early for you to be roaming about, but I could get you a pint of blood. I got fresh O positive in just last night -"  
  
"I need ID," Spike said gruffly.  
  
"ID?" Willy leaned his broom against a table and looked at Spike quizically. "Well, yeah, I know a guy in town who'll do you a great ID, and at a reasonable price. But uh...I never figured you'd be worried about being carded for smokes."  
  
"And a birth certificate too," Spike said. "All that rot. Also, if anyone calls you asking about a guy named William, you tell them I work here, got it?"  
  
"Why would you want me to say that?" Willy asked.  
  
In a flash Spike had Willy by the collar. "Because if you don't, I'll suck your limp little body dry."  
  
"Well...when you put it that way," Willy stammered out.   
  
*  
  
After visiting the man Willy recommended, Spike took the sewers to the Sunnydale County Building and entered through the basement. He walked up to the Social Services office on the fifth floor and stood in front of the secretary who manned the doorway.  
  
"May I help you?" the woman asked, as if the last thing she wanted to do was help anyone.  
  
"I need to get custody of this kid," Spike said.  
  
"Are you a family member?"   
  
"Yeah." Spike took his new ID out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. "See, all legal and legit, just like you real people."  
  
"William Summers," the woman read off the driver's license.   
  
"Dawn's cousin," Spike said. "The girl hates her bloody foster parents, so she's going to stay with me, alright?"  
  
"Um...it's not quite that easy, Mr. Summers," the woman said. "You need to go to the Family Court office on the third floor. They'll help you fill out the necessary applications and file them with the court."  
  
"And then she can stay with me?"  
  
"No, then you can wait for the paperwork to be processed, which shouldn't take more than a few days. You'll be notified of a court date by mail. The court date is usually within a week, but the court calendar has been busy lately. Still, it shouldn't be longer than a month."  
  
Spike groaned. "So then when I go to court, I get the kid?"  
  
"No," the woman continued. "When you go to court, your application will be considered. Then the court orders a background check, where they make sure you don't have a police record or anything like that. There will also be a home study, where a Social Worker will visit you regularly. When this process is complete, you'll get a second court date, and if all has gone well, your application will be approved, and you'll be granted custody."  
  
"Bloody hell, woman!" Spike said, shocked. "You lot are worse than the sodding Initiative. They just wanted to stick computer bits in my brain. You people are trying to drive me mad!"  
  
The woman smiled sarcastically and handed the driver's license back to Spike. "Third floor, to your left, and you're welcome."  
  
*  
  
Willow sneezed as she opened the book. She and Tara had been in the Magic Shop, going through every dusty volume for hours.   
  
"Bless you," Tara said.  
  
"Thank you!" Willow replied with a big smile. She gestured to the book in front of Tara. "Anything yet?"  
  
"Well, I found one spell that's says it 'holds a captive in invisible binds', but it's meant for vampires, because it doesn't let the trapped person breathe. And breathing...ya know...kinda a necessary thing."  
  
Willow sighed and put her head in her hands. "There isn't going to be enough time," she said.  
  
"We could always just hide from her until we figure it out, right?" Tara asked hopefully.  
  
Willow shook her head. "I have to tell you something," she said gently, turning to her girlfriend and taking her hand. "But you can't tell the others."  
  
Tara nodded.  
  
"Spike's going to try to kill Buffy," Willow said, her voice catching as she spoke her friend's name. "He thinks it's the only way. And...well, I kind of agree. I'd fight to get Buffy back forever, even if it killed me, which it very well could...but then there's you, and Dawn, and the others." Willow took a deep breath. "And even if we wanted to, I don't think we could stop Spike from doing it."  
  
"So if we're going to find another way," Tara said. "We have to find it today."  
  
"And before sundown," Willow said, looking towards the window.  
  
*  
  
"But it's a special case," Spike explained.  
  
He was sitting in a small, dusty office with a thin, aging man. After he had finished filling out his application for custody, he had gone looking for Dawn's Social Worker. But the man had been out of his office, so Spike spent that time lurking through the alleys of Main Street with a newspaper in one hand and his coat held like a shield in the other, blocking the dangerous rays that darted through the gaps in the buildings. When he found what he wanted, he returned to the County Building and tracked down the Social Worker.  
  
"Special case how?" the man said. "We usually only grant these sort of requests if the child is in immediate danger from living with the foster parents."  
  
"She *is* in immediate danger," Spike said, growing impatient quickly. "She refuses to stay with them. If you toss her back in there she'll just run away again, and there's your bloody danger. She could get get attacked by vamp- I mean, muggers."  
  
"Then she shouldn't be living on the streets," the man said.  
  
"That's what I'm bloody telling you, you stupid wanker!" Spike shouted, leaning forward and banging his hands on the desk. "The girl's in trouble, and if something happens to her, I swear I will come back here and rip your bloody lungs out!" Spike bit his lip, trying to control his anger, and sat back in the chair. "She lost her mom. And she lost her sister. I'm the only family she has left."  
  
The man didn't blink. "Alright, she can stay with you, pending the approval of your custody application. But I'll have to begin the home study immediately."  
  
Spike stood up. "You've got my address. I'll be seeing you, mate."  
  
He left the building the way he had come in, through the basement. After making a quick stop for a small, and - he thought - understandable theft, he followed the sewers back to the motel.  
  
*  
  
When he returned to the motel, the room he had been sharing with Dawn was empty. With one of the room's blankets draped over his head, he went to the room Xander and Anya had been occupying.  
  
When he knocked on the door, Anya opened it and stood in the doorway with her finger to her mouth.  
  
"Xander's sleeping," she whispered.  
  
"And I'm about to burst into flames," Spike said. "Lemme in, you stupid bint."  
  
Anya stepped outside, closed the door behind her, and gestured for Spike to follow her into his room.  
  
"Where is everyone?" Spike asked when he was safely able to toss the blanket off his shoulders. His chest was still sore from the near-constant injuries, so he pulled his shirt off and examined his battle-scars.  
  
"Dawn was getting restless, so they went to the movies," Anya said. She noticed the wounds on his chest. They were almost-healed, but they were still deep red indentations in his flesh. "Ew."  
  
"Sod off," Spike mumbled and he ran his hand over his torso. "So how's your pin-cushion man?"  
  
Anya sat down on one of the beds and put her hands to her temples.  
  
"Not getting any since he got himself all cut up?" Spike tossed his shirt onto the floor. "Well, if you need someone to pick up the slack while monkey-boy's mending, it's the least I can do." He sat next to Anya and put his hand on her knee. "As a friend."  
  
"What? Ew!" Anya leapt to her feet and took a few steps away from Spike. "It's not about sex. It's..."  
  
"About the lack of sex?" Spike asked. "Your painful and burning desire for a hard and ageless body to press against?"  
  
"It'a about everything," Anya said sadly. "Remember when you told me that you missed killing people? That you wished you'd stopped and smelled the corpses while you could?"  
  
Spike chuckled. "Yeah. You feeling powerless lately?"  
  
"Not so much powerless as..." She threw her arms up in frustration. "Here I am, being a good human, and what's the point? How can I have a normal life when every few weeks some two-by-fours fall on me or my fiance gets stabbed? I thought this was what I wanted, but I don't know if I can do it. You have all these humans on Earth, trying to be good and everything, but why do they even bother?" She moved closer to Spike, studying his face carefully. "Why do you bother?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You don't have to be here," Anya said. "Protecting Dawn, helping us. You could go on a big fun murderous rampage. So why don't you?"  
  
"Hmm," Spike said. "Good point. I think I'll kill you now."  
  
Spike stood up but was immediately pushed back down into a sitting position.  
  
"You will not," Anya said. "I know you won't."  
  
Spike shrugged.  
  
"So tell me why," Anya demanded.  
  
"I don't know," Spike said. "I guess...I guess when you got nothing else, you still need a reason to fight." Spike stood up and paced to the other side of the room. "I mean, look at me. The woman I loved for a hundred years left me. Three bloody times she left me. Not to mention that she was a raving lunatic to begin with. The man who was my mentor grew a soul and wouldn't have anything to do with me. Then I fall for another girl, and she does a swan dive into oblivion. If I didn't have a fight, I'd just off myself right quick and be happy." Spike looked off at the covered window, which was beginning to darken with the sunset. "But I guess no one wants to die."  
  
A soft and steady rumbling sound seeped into the room, and for a moment it seemed as if they could hear the Earth as it rotated, moving along slowly but ceaselessly, as if urging them towards decisions they would rather not make. Then they saw the headlights in the window and realized it was only a car approaching. They heard Dawn and Giles before the two walked into the room.  
  
"How was the movie?" Anya said.  
  
"Sucked," Dawn said. But then a small smile broke out on her face. "But Giles got me popcorn *and* M&Ms, *and* gummy worms." She walked happily to the other side of the room and tossed her backpack onto the floor. "The four basic food groups: salt, chocolate, sugar, and Pepsi." She approached Spike and playfully punched him on the shoulder. "Where've you been all day?"  
  
Spike smiled slyly. "You'll never guess what I did."  
  
Giles' face went pale. "Did you kill someone?"  
  
Spike stood up abruptly. "For the last time, I am not evil! Do I have to put up a bloody billboard?"  
  
"What did you do?" Dawn asked.  
  
Spike looked down at the eager eyes awaiting his response. "I applied for legal custody of you, nibblet."  
  
Dawn's face seemed to explode, her mouth turning into a wide O, and then breaking into a smile bigger than Spike thought she was capable of. She squealed and threw her arms around him.  
  
"Really? Oh my God!" Dawn cried out. She giggled insanely and bounced up and down as she hugged him.  
  
"You did *what*?" Anya said.  
  
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Dawn said. She reached up and planted a kiss on Spike's cheek.  
  
"Spike, I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Giles said. "I'm not sure it's even possible."  
  
"It's possible, Rupes," Spike said, one arm still around Dawn. "I got all the forged documents, which really just shows how bloody stupid this country's government is. I saw some idiots and filled out twenty sheets of paper, and it's done." He turned to the beaming girl beside him. "Of course, they way those buggers move, it'll drag on forever. We'll have to go to court a few times and they'll be nosing around the apartment, but as long as I'm not beating you and making you clean the chimney and such, I wager we'll be alright."  
  
"Apartment?" Dawn said.  
  
"I don't think this would be a good situation for Dawn at this -" Giles began.  
  
"Yep," Spike said to Dawn. "Nice place. Two bedrooms, and this huge window that looks over main street."  
  
"How did you afford that?" Anya asked.  
  
"I killed this demon last week that had come to town looking for the jewel of something-or-other," Spike said. "So I hocked it." He shrugged. "Apparently there's some money to be made in being one of the sodding good guys."  
  
"What?" Giles said. "But do you even know what this jewel was? It could have been -"  
  
"Spike, this is so great," Dawn said, her small arms still tightly clenched around his body. "Now I can live in a real place, and still hang out with everyone, and go to school..."  
  
Spike hung his head down so that it was close to Dawn's. "Not *completely* normal, sweet bit, but -"  
  
"Almost normal," Dawn said softly. "Which is better than I ever imagined I'd get."  
  
Spike was distracted from the glowing eyes staring at him by the sudden blackness of the window beyond the heavy motel curtains. "I have to go out for a while," he told her.  
  
"Where are you going?" she asked. "Can I come?"  
  
Spike shook his head. "I gotta go beat the hell out of Willy. Social Services people want me to have a job, so I gotta convince him to vouch for me."  
  
"But you'll be back soon, right?" Dawn said.  
  
Spike's chest rose and fell with the involuntary breath that filled him at the site of her hopeful gaze. "I'll try," he said softly. He placed a quick kiss on Dawn's forehead and walked to the door.   
  
"Spike, we really need to talk about all this," Giles said.  
  
"Later," Spike said.   
  
He crossed the motel parking lot and headed for the street that would lead him into town. As he passed a line of bushes by the side of the road he reached in to retrieve the item he had stolen earlier. He wasn't sure where to find Buffy, but he had a good idea.  
  
And he also had an axe.  



	8. Broken

Part Eight:  
Broken  
  
"Spike, stop!"  
  
"Out of my head, witch," Spike growled. He was walking down the sidestreets of town, striding confidently, a large axe swinging by his side. His chest was bare, but he barely noticed the warm breeze that brushed against his many injuries.  
  
"Tara and I are at the Magic Shop," he heard in his mind. "Can you come here?"  
  
"You got a spell?" Spike said out loud.  
  
"Well...no," came the response. "But you can't do this. There's got to be another way."  
  
Spike muttered the dirtiest phrase he knew.  
  
"I heard that," Willow's tiny voice said inside his thoughts.  
  
"You're friend's not coming back, Red," Spike said flatly. "And you know I mean to do this."  
  
"I know."  
  
"So then what's the problem?" Spike stopped in his tracks and shouted into the night, looking like a madman, alone on a sidewalk, swinging a weapon and arguing with an aberration. "You worried about me, Red? Big, bad vampire you don't bloody like anyway? Or maybe that's it," he said, becoming more and more incensed. "Maybe you don't want to see me bite it. Maybe you're sitting there right now, all worried that my manly good looks will go to waste, chewing on your pencil and questioning your sexual orientation." He pointed the axe at a nearby tree, as if it was the person he was arguing with. "But if that's not the case, bugger off. This is between me and the Slayer." He spun around and walked faster as he neared his destination.  
  
"The Slayer?" she said, her small voice rising to a fevered pitch. "Is that what you think? Spike, she's *Buffy*. I know you can kill the Slayer, but can you kill *Buffy*?"  
  
Spike stopped in front of the house. It was an ordinary suburban place with a big porch and a heavy wooden door. A "For Sale" sign sat in the neglected lawn, weeds tangled around its base, as if the earth was trying to reclaim the elements taken from it to make the cardboard beacon. Through the windows dim white shapes were visible: furniture covered and abandoned. The darkness around the structure was different than that which surrounded some of the nearby houses; it was absolute and forlorn, a barrenness that only the forgotten can possess. But in a second-floor bedroom there was a flickering so slight that a human eye could not have detected it. Spike's hunch had been right. Buffy had come home.   
  
"I'm about to find out, love," Spike said, and he approached the door.  
  
*  
  
"Hit me!"  
  
Dawn looked downward. She had only two options, and neither seemed promising. "Uh...again," she said warily.  
  
Anya placed another card on the bed and squealed when she saw it. "Twenty-three! I win again!"  
  
Dawn scowled as Anya cheerfully gathered the playing cards and began to shuffle them. There was the soft jangling of a key in the lock of the motel room door, and both women instinctively stiffened and looked towards it. Though they tried to pretend otherwise, they both felt like disjointed people, ghosts of their former selves, confined to these anonymous rooms with little knowledge of their future. The excitement and fear provoked by everyday motions, like the opening of a door, brought a strange comfort to the monotony. Dawn remembered a special she had seen on TV about jurors being sequestered, how they had to spend most of their time just sitting around, unsure of when they'd be able to go home to their families. Anya thought of the prisoners she had seen in the Japanese Internment camps during World War II.   
  
She hadn't spent much time in American prior to then, and the few appearances she had made had all been on the East Coast. But then a woman in California had summoned her to curse her philandering husband, a soldier stationed in a nearby desert. Anyaka had found the man working in one of the camps, where these Japanese-Americans, many of whom were born within the country, were held against their will during the war years, charged with no crime other than the ethnic group they dared to be descendant from. The propaganda going into Europe portrayed the United States as the defender of democracy and the world's great protector. But the same government that preached freedom had locked their own citizens in desert shanty-towns. She remembered those prisoners. How they sat in their crowded rooms, cooking the meager food they were given and inventing games to pass the time. Most of them had to share a space no bigger than the motel she now sat in with ten or twenty others. The rations were military food, foreign and inedible to some of the prisoners. The toys the children played with were discarded bits of building materials that littered the makeshift towns. One would expect them all to be driven insane within a week, and if they wouldn't begin revolting or killing each other, at least they would turn their despair inwards: kill themselves intentionally, starve, or just succumb to the diseases that crawled along their bedding beside the spiders. But in actuality, very few did. As Anyaka wandered through the camp, looking for the man who would shortly be vomiting up his own intestines, she marveled at how the people had adapted to the hopelessness they faced. How they cooked, played, sewed, built - anything to forget where they were and to continue being who they used to be. Anyaka had laughed at the foolishness of mortals. They were so impossibly stupid, and so desperate to live.  
  
The door swung open and Giles walked into the room carrying two bags of fast food.   
  
"I think you're cheating," Dawn said.  
  
"Am not!" Anya immediately countered.  
  
Dawn held out her hand. "Then let me deal."  
  
"Anya, are you teaching her how to gamble?" Giles asked with a disapproving frown.  
  
"Yes," Anya replied, smiling proudly. "And I'm winning!"  
  
"Cause you're cheating," Dawn muttered, taking the cards from her.  
  
Giles handed one of the bags to Anya. "Dear God, she's just a child," he said softly.  
  
"I am not a child!" Dawn said. She pounded her hand down, pushing the deck of cards into the bedding. "How many times do I have to almost get killed before all of you stop treating me like a baby?"  
  
Giles averted his eyes, visibly embarrassed. "I'm - I'm sorry, Dawn, I didn't mean it like-" He held out the other paper bag.  
  
"I'm not hungry," Dawn said.  
  
"You haven't eaten much today," Giles responded warily. ""Perhaps you could at least...um...try something?"  
  
"Maybe later."  
  
Dawn swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the dresser. She took out one of the shirts she'd bought at the mall. As she lifted it and shook the wrinkles out, a slight aroma of liquor and cigarette smoke reached her nose. It smelled like him. She went into the bathroom to change.  
  
Giles sat down on the opposite bed and took off his glasses. "Have Willow and Tara called?"  
  
Anya shook her head.   
  
"If they're not making any progress," Giles continued, "we should consider relocating."  
  
"But we have different rooms than last night," Anya said. "Nice, non-broken rooms."  
  
"Still, she may come back to this motel looking for us. If Willow and Tara had another spell ready, that would be an asset; we could be ready for her. But if not..."  
  
Anya looked at the wall, as if she was trying to feel her fiancé through the plywood and plaster. "Xander isn't really well enough to move." She shrugged and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm sure nothing bad'll happen."  
  
Giles stood abruptly, his eyes wide and his brow damp with sudden sweat. "Anya!"  
  
"What?" She noticed his horrified expression and shivered in fear. "What, Giles? What is it?"  
  
"How could you say that?" he said angrily. "You've been living as a human - and on the Hellmouth - for nearly three years now! Surely you know better!"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"You said, 'I'm sure nothing bad will happen'." Giles explained, "Now something bad is bound to happen!"  
  
Anya's posture relaxed and she chuckled. "Oh, Giles. Don't be so supersti-"  
  
A scream came from the bathroom.  
  
*  
  
The front door was open.  
  
Spike remembered the first time he had walked through this door. That had been the beginning of the end of his long love-affair with Drusilla. He had crossed enemy lines, and started a dance with the only person who could kill him, and in more ways than one. Drusilla had branded him as a traitor from that moment forward. He had betrayed her, her first love, and their nature with the simple act of walking through that door. He told her - and told himself - that he did it because he didn't want her to die, which would surely happen if the Slayer won. And if the Slayer lost, both he and Dru would be in a hell-like dimension forever.  
  
But didn't she like it on Earth? he had asked her afterwards. Didn't she like the clothes, and the houses, and the great mobs of people they could walk through and pick off like mortals would step on bugs? Did she really want to trade that all in for an eternity as some demon's lackey?   
  
She had laughed at him. Said she should've known better than to turn him. He was too weak, too human, too attached to the pleasures of the flesh.   
  
In a violent display that Spike was embarrassed about still, years afterwards, he had tried to show her how "weak and human" he was. But what should have made her cry and beg only made her laugh at him more.   
  
"You think this hurts?" she had said, lifting her hand and letting the blood trickle down her arm. "Looking at you hurts. It burns my eyes, inside and out, to know what you really are."  
  
What am I? Spike thought to himself as he walked over the threshold and into the oppressive darkness. He was relieved when the red-headed witch didn't answer his question, glad that something else was occupying her. He'd heard her pop-psychology answer, but it wasn't enough. He was born a man, and lived a short and pointless life, spending much of his time reading and studying other men's thoughts. He was reborn a monster, and for a long time he felt as if it was the ultimate blessing. He was strong, and no longer needed to listen to what others had to say. When he displayed his power, people and demons alike would have to respond to him. He focused all of his energy on making this happen, on seeing himself in the imagined reflection of others' frightened eyes.   
  
He walked up the stairs silently, his bare arm tense and tight, his shoulder and bicep bulging as he clutched his weapon. The light was coming from her bedroom, but as he approached the door he could tell that the room was empty save for the dying light of a candle as it drowned in its own liquid wax.  
  
Her things were strewn over the bed and the floor. He recognized the stuffed pig that seemed to follow her everywhere. He had seen it in her dorm room the night of his failed attack on Willow, and again when he had taken to sneaking in this very room when she wasn't home. He had meant to ask her about it. He wondered if it was a gift from her absent father, and that was why it was so cherished. He had briefly considered offering to have her father killed by some European vampires he had known when he was with Drusilla, who might still consider him a friend. It had occurred to him as a romantic gesture, but then he assessed that she might not see it in that same way.  
  
He saw an old journal lying among the scattered clothes, and he picked it up. It's thick pages were covered in her round and slightly slanted handwriting. He didn't read it; he just looked at the way the words were written: neatly, slowly, as if she'd had all the time in the world to compose and explore her thoughts. He thought of all the time he'd had to kill in the past two years, and how he'd spent it watching television, hunting evil creatures, screwing some nitwit, or just lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to drive away his thoughts rather than bring them to order. He ran his hand over one of the pages and wondered how someone who lived a life as horrifying, demanding, and lonely as she did had the strength to confront her demons.  
  
He heard a faint click, and then felt a change in the room's air. He dropped to his knees just as an arrow whispered past his ear, and buried itself in the wall beyond him. He stood back up cautiously, holding the axe, ready to swing, as Buffy walked through the bedroom door with a crossbow at her side.  
  
In the dim light of the flickering candle she was beautiful. She wore a knee-length peach and white dress that clung to her body as if it was made for her alone. Her hair hung in soft folds and ripples, catching the meager light and entrapping it in its tresses. Her face seemed to glow with the undeniable color of life.   
  
Buffy looked across her bedroom at Spike, and she smiled. "Hello, cutie."  
  
*  
  
"Dawn!"   
  
Giles had brushed past Anya and was at the bathroom door before she even had time to react. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. He shook it. Dawn's screams were getting louder and more frenzied by the second. The veins on his neck bulged as he grasped the door by its hinges and tore it off.  
  
"Holy shit," Anya muttered.  
  
The small bathroom window was open, and two vampires were attacking Dawn. One held her by the arms while the other wrestled against her flailing body and moved its demonic face towards her neck.  
  
Giles rushed into the room and pulled the vampire from her. He punched it squarely in the face, but it recovered quickly and struck back, sending Giles into the wall with a loud thud.  
  
Dawn, still restrained, pulled forward as hard as she could, extended her leg backwards, and kicked the vampire between the legs.  
  
The creature groaned and released her. Dawn rushed from the bathroom as the vampire who had hit Giles focused his attention on Anya.  
  
Without pausing, Dawn ran out of the motel room. She found a pay phone at the end of the line of rooms, near some soda and snack machines, and she picked it up and dialed 411. Giles and Anya would probably be able to best the two vampires, but if Buffy had sent them, she would be sending more.  
  
"Sunnydale," Dawn said into the phone, her voice shaking. "Willy's bar."  
  
The operator connected her and in a few seconds she heard Willy's voice. "Thanks for calling Willy's Place, the fun family establishment where-"  
  
"Is Spike there?" Dawn blurted out.   
  
"Spike? No, he was here earlier though."  
  
"What?" Dawn asked, panicked. "B-but he said he was going there! It's an emergency, please!"  
  
"Sorry, lady," Willy replied. "He was here this morning asking about a job, or something like that, but I haven't seen him since. Hey - while I have you on the phone, how about a nice take-out order of-"  
  
Dawn slammed the phone down. Spike had said he was going there, but in fact he had finished his business with Willy earlier in the day. Why would he lie to them?  
  
"Oh, no," Dawn said out loud to herself. "Buffy."  
  
*  
  
"Spirit of the Slayer, hear my prayer," Willow said. Her hand shook as she dropped the sand in the center of the circle that she and Tara formed on the floor of the magic shop. This is it, she thought. Our last hope.  
  
"First of the warriors, we beg you to intervene," Tara said. "Take my form, as you have done before, and lead us to your descendant: she who has strayed from her calling, who needs your guiding hand, your wisdom, your strength, your endless power, your-"  
  
"Tara," Willow said, opening her eyes.  
  
Tara looked up at her girlfriend. "It should have worked by now," she said. "But I haven't felt anything."  
  
Willow shook her head. "It's like she's ignoring us."  
  
"Probably still pissed-off about the first time you summoned her," Tara muttered.  
  
"Hey!" Willow said, standing and brushing the sacred sand off her shoes. "Like your ass-kissing was doing any good."  
  
"Willow!" Tara stood up.  
  
"I'm sorry," Willow said. She took Tara's hand and pulled their bodies close together. "I'm just so worried. I don't know what else we can do."  
  
Tara kissed her lips softly. "It'll be okay. Try Spike again. See what's happening."  
  
They both jumped at the sudden, loud knocking on the Magic Shop door. They rushed to the front of the store and looked out the window.  
  
"It's Dawn," Tara said.   
  
Willow opened the door to see the young girl standing there, her entire body shaking and faint tracks of tears lining her face.  
  
"Dawn, what happened?" Willow said, pulling her into her arms.  
  
"Vampires," Dawn said, her voice trembling. "They attacked the motel. They might've hurt Giles and Anya. I don't know; I ran. Oh God, I left them, and they could be dead!"  
  
"No, it's okay," Tara said. She rubbed Dawn's arm comfortingly. "You did the right thing. You had to get help."  
  
"I tried to call Spike," Dawn continued, her words muffled as she buried her face in Willow's shoulder. "He said he was going to Willy's but I called and he wasn't there."  
  
Willow and Tara exchanged worried looks.  
  
"And I'm afraid that he-" Dawn suddenly fought back a sob and pulled herself away from Willow. She held the redhead by the shoulders and looked into her eyes with a determined gaze. "You know where he is. Tell me." When Willow cast her eyes down rather then respond, Dawn shook her body by the shoulders. "You can read his mind; tell me where he is!" she shouted.  
  
"Dawn," Willow said, trying to comfort the near-hysterical girl with the even tone of her voice. "You need to sit down for a minute. Okay?"  
  
*  
  
Buffy leaned casually against the doorframe, obviously unshaken by Spike's threatening posture. "Have you decided to attack me one at a time?" she asked. "That'll really make it easier for me to kill all of you." She smiled. "Awww, Spike; you always were so sweet."  
  
Spike hardened his mouth into a line and flexed the muscles of his chest. "I'll take you out all by myself, little girl."  
  
Buffy's eyes flared with malice. "That's right, you like little girls, dontcha Spike?"  
  
Spike took a step forward. "I'm bloody through talking. Let's end this."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Ooo, I think I hit a nerve. I always knew you were a pervert, Spike, but this is a new low."  
  
"I'm not touching her," Spike said slowly. "I wouldn't hurt her."  
  
"Right," Buffy said. "You're harmless, aren't you? The big bad falls for a Slayer, and then when he can't get her, he turns into a little kitten, sulking around her friends and having wet dreams about her fourteen year-old sister." Buffy moved forward. She was almost close enough for Spike to touch. "Have you looked at yourself lately, Spike? Don't you see how sad you are? I mean, imagine what Drusilla would say! That is, if she could even get out a word, what with all the laughing..."  
  
"You want to talk exes?" Spike said. "Yours was a lot of fun. After you shagged the soul out of him, at least. You know what he told me once?" Spike stepped closer to her. Now they were both in striking distance of each other. "'To kill this girl,'" Spike said softly, "'You have to love her.'"  
  
Buffy lowered her head, still smiling, and then looked up at Spike sweetly, her eyelashes casting long shadows over her face. "You love me, Spike?" she asked.  
  
Spike breathed in the scent of her: the shampoo and the lotion he had come to cherish, only faintly masking the natural musk that was individually her. "More than you know," he said, and he swung the axe.  
  
*  
  
Giles brushed the dust off his pants and tried to catch his breath. The two vampires were dead now, but Dawn had managed to get away, and Anya-  
  
"Anya!" he called out. He had lost track of her during the fight, and he had thought she was still in the room, but now she was nowhere to be found. He walked into the bathroom. "Anya!"  
  
He found her right outside the motel room, lying on the ground, her tousled hair covering her face. He fell to his knees beside her and landed in a sticky pool of blood. He pushed her hair back and examined her. She was pale, and cool to the touch, and not breathing.  
  
"Anya!" Giles yelled. He reached to her neck to check for a pulse but quickly withdrew his hand. It was covered in blood. She had been bitten.  
  
"Anya," Giles repeated, but this time he spoke her name softer, no longer trying to rouse her. He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her. As he fought back tears, he saw her lips part slightly, very slightly, and a tiny breath escape.  
  
"Anya," he said. He grabbed her wrist. A faint pulse. She was alive.  
  
He rushed back into the room and to the phone.  
  
*  
  
"I'm not sitting down!" Dawn folded her arms across her chest. They had led her to the large table towards the back of the Magic Shop. Tara had sat there, but when Willow pulled out a chair and gestured for Dawn to take it, she'd refused. "Look, just tell me. This is no time to play games, or pretend I can't handle things. I'm in the middle of this, and I'll deal with it. I *have* to deal with it."  
  
The way that Dawn stood there, and the way she spoke, reminded Willow of Buffy. The determination of her posture and her words, only thinly veiling the fear and vulnerability that she felt, but pushing those feelings as deep as she could and summoning every bit of strength possible - it made Willow feel like she had her best friend back.  
  
"He...he went to find Buffy," Willow said.  
  
"He went to kill her," Dawn corrected.  
  
Willow nodded sadly.  
  
Dawn caught a sob in her throat and took a deep breath to will it away. "Where?"  
  
Willow looked away.  
  
"Where!" Dawn shouted, taking a step closer to her.  
  
"Dawnie," Tara said from where she sat behind Willow. "We just don't want to see you get hurt."  
  
Dawn turned, walked a few steps away from them, and put her hands to her face. When she turned back she was crying softly.   
  
"Oh, Dawn." Willow took a step towards her and reached out to her.  
  
"Get away from me!" Dawn shouted, causing Willow to retract her arm and stand motionless. "I am so sick of 'You're just a kid' and 'We want to keep you safe'." Dawn put her hand to her throat in an effort to steady herself. "I am *not* safe. I am *never* going to be safe. Do you have any idea what it's like-" She choked on her tears and had to force her breath to come. "I wake up every day, and the first thing I think about is death. How my mother died, how Buffy died...and how much I want to die."  
  
"No..." Willow reached out again, but Dawn took a step backwards.  
  
"It's right there in my head, every moment," she continued. "I can't make it stop. You'd think it would go away when I went to sleep, but then I just have these dreams..." Her voice was drowned out as a fresh round of sobs racked her body. "I dream that I'm lying on the ground, and I can't move at all. And this monster I can't see is cutting me up in tiny pieces, and it takes so long for it to cut me up that I wish I could make it go faster, I wish I could just die." She cried out loud: a painful, anxious wail. "And all I want is one person...one person who'll love me more than anything else, and who'll protect me, and who won't give up until that piece of me that's begging for death is quiet, and I'm not all broken inside."  
  
Dawn put her hands to her temples and moaned, as if trying to push the overwhelming anguish out of her body with the force of her audible exhale. She took a few deep breaths and then straightened her body out, looking at Willow with that familiar and courageous gaze. "I'm not going to stand here and let the two people I love most in the world kill each other."  
  
"They're at her...your old house," Willow said.   
  
Dawn began walking to the door.  
  
"Dawn, wait!"  
  
Willow hurried to the doorway to catch up with her, with Tara close behind. "We're coming with you."  
  
*  
  
Buffy easily moved out of the way and the axe whizzed through the empty air. She punched Spike in the chest and then backhanded him across the face. He retaliated, his fist connecting with her chin, and his knee following close behind with a blow to her stomach. She doubled over and he knocked her to the ground.  
  
Spike's face changed to its demonic form, his eyes glowing red and his fangs bared. He leaned over her, poised to bite, but her foot struck his face as she leapt to her feet.   
  
"Like I said," Buffy remarked to Spike's hunched-over body. "Pathetic." She hit him on the head again, this time propelling him into the wall. "You're nothing, Spike. You're not good, and you're not evil. You're never be part of anything."   
  
As he began to raise his head, she sent him to his knees with another blow. "The things people have, you can't have. All the things people do, you'll never be able to do. And your tough-guy act isn't going to last long."   
  
Spike pushed himself to his feet, only to be driven to the ground with a swift kick that knocked his legs out from under him. Buffy stood over him, and looked down with disgust on the blood-covered face that looked back at her. "The things I've fought, they were just the beginning. A new wave of evil is coming; I've seen it. Flood after flood, and who are you to stop it? A worthless vampire who sleeps in tombs, on top of corpses; with the dead with you belong." She reached down the front of her dress and withdrew her knife. "There's no point," she said. "There's no one. You're all alone, Spike."  
  
Spike didn't flinch as Buffy poised the knife over his chest. Then she slowly turned it around, grasping the blade in her hand even as it cut into her, and Spike noticed it. Though the handle of the knife was painted black, it was wooden. She squatted down over him, moving in for the kill.  
  
But Spike grabbed her hand as it descended towards his body and held it steady. "I am not alone," he said.   
  
He bent her arm backwards, and heard the audible crack of a breaking bone. Buffy faltered, but remained standing. Spike beat down on her head with both fists together and she fell onto one knee.  
  
"I walk and talk, just like everyone else." Spike said. Buffy lifted a leg to kick him but he easily blocked it. He chuckled, allowing a trickle of blood to run into his mouth. "Hell, I even shop." He caught the hand that was trying to punch him and held it. He leaned down, his face close to Buffy's. "I'm gonna be a bloody hero when the floods roll in," he said softly. "A lot has changed since you left. And I don't sleep on a bed of bones anymore."  
  
Buffy headbutted him, causing him to stumble backwards. She kicked him in the stomach, but her follow-up punch was blocked and returned to her, hitting her in the mouth.  
Spike pressed on vigorously, knowing that she was hurt; one of her arms was broken and its hand was sliced, leaving the entire limb useless, regardless of her Slayer-healing. But then, small waves of dizziness kept passing over him as the wounds on his head continued to hemorrhage. Buffy knew it, and used those moments to her advantage, assaulting Spike powerfully whenever she saw his resolve waiver. They seemed to be evenly matched. Something drastic would have to be done to tip the scales.  
  
Spike dodged an attack and used Buffy's own momentum to drive her face-first into the wall. He knew the impact would only stun her for a moment, so he quickly grabbed her by her arms, squeezing the broken one. A growl came up from the depths of his body as he lifted her off her feet and threw her outside the bedroom door.  
  
She landed at the top of the stairs, hitting her head on the banister. It didn't phase her for long. In an instant she was poised to jump to her feet, but Spike was there. He grabbed her legs as they raised to launch her upwards, and he pushed them backwards, over her head, flipping her and sending her plummeting down the stairs.  
  
Buffy's body landed with a resounding thud, and for a moment she didn't move. Spike hurried back into the bedroom and then out again and down the stairs. Having retrieved the axe, he held it ready to strike. If Buffy was seriously hurt, this was the time to end it.  
  
By the time he got down to the first floor she had pushed herself up onto her elbows. But she was panting, and a bruise was beginning to form on her forehead. She held her stomach with her uninjured arm, as if something there was causing her pain. Spike stood over her, and raised his weapon.  
  
*  
  
Giles paced back and forth across the hospital waiting room, continuously removing, cleaning, and replacing his glasses, over and over again, until Xander finally rolled his wheelchair in Giles' path and told him to buy contacts.  
  
"I'm sorry," Giles said. "I just...I feel so responsible. I was so intent on killing those vampires...I didn't even notice what happened to her..."  
  
"It's okay," Xander said.  
  
Giles sighed and then winced at the pain in his chest.   
  
"What is it?" Xander asked.  
  
"Nothing," Giles said, rubbing his hand on the affected area of his torso. "A broken rib or two. I'll be fine."  
  
"You should get a doctor," Xander said. "I heard there might be some in this building."  
  
"How can you be so flippant?" Giles snapped.  
  
Xander was unruffled by his outburst. He considered it, smiling to himself. "Weird, isn't it?" he said. "Used to be I was the biggest spaz of them all. But something's changed." He put his hand to his chest. "I feel her. All the time." He smiled at Giles. "I know she's alive."  
  
*  
  
Dawn walked a few steps ahead of the two witches. The silence between them all was burdensome. She could feel their eyes burning into the back of her neck. After a few blocks she decided she could endure the emotion of conversation more than the implications of the quiet, and she fell into step beside them.   
  
"Can you hear him?" Dawn asked Willow.  
  
"Yes," Willow said. "He's hurt, but so is she."  
  
Dawn tried unsuccessfully to hide the ripple of worry that crossed her face. "Can you tell him we're coming? No, wait. That could distract him. But..." She let the thought - that Spike would kill her sister - go unspoken.  
  
"She's not the same person," Tara said. "I know that doesn't make it easier, but-"  
  
"I know," Dawn interrupted. Her tone left them all silent for a minute.  
  
"Dawn," Willow said, as gently as if Dawn were capable of harming her, "I don't know if...I mean, I don't think it's such a good...." She trailed off, unsure of how to voice her concerns. She cleared her throat and started again. "Do you....do you really love Spike?"   
  
Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'm not some stupid little girl," she said. "I'm almost fifteen - the same age Buffy was when she started slaying vampires and dating boys."  
  
"Spike isn't a boy," Tara said. "He's a vampire. And vampires don't have souls. Even if Spike is different now...well, you can't just *create* a soul."  
  
"Why not?" Dawn said defiantly. "That's what they did to me." She sighed and began to walk faster. "Willow, you see into his head. Can't I trust him?"  
  
"I think you can, I really do," Willow replied. "You just have to realize that...well, actions have consequences, and even if you feel in your heart that you want to do...things, sometimes things aren't the right things to do at certain stages in your life, and...and..."  
  
"And," Tara chimed in. "Sometimes there's like...pressure to do a certain thing. But you don't have to do these things just because other people do these things..."  
  
Dawn stopped abruptly and turned to face the two women, a look of realization spreading over her face. "You're afraid I'm going to have sex with Spike." She furrowed her brow. "*Ew!*"  
  
Willow and Tara shared a look of confusion. "Ew?" Tara asked.  
  
Dawn snickered at their perplexed expressions. "I'm not going to have sex with him. That's just gross."  
  
"But - but I thought..." Willow stammered. "You said you love him."  
  
"I do," Dawn said. "He's my best friend. And he's the coolest guy ever. But I wouldn't have sex with anyone right now, not even Spike. No one I know in school is having sex, not even Mandy, and she's the biggest slut ever. She's made out with like four guys in our class and everyone says she's skanky. And I saw this movie on TV where this girl had sex with a boy and then he told everyone in school that they had sex and then someone wrote that she was a slut on the boys' bathroom wall and everyone made fun of her. And when I go back to school, people are gonna talk behind my back enough, ya know, with everything that happened, so I don't want them to say I'm skanky on top of everything else. Also, mom once told me that you shouldn't have sex with a guy until he at least buys you an engagement ring. I know, it's real old-fashioned, but I think I should get at least [i]some[/i] expensive present from a guy before I let him do all that gross stuff to me." She leaned closer to Willow and Tara, as if sharing a secret. "I saw a movie about it in gym class. It really is a gross thing to do." She leaned back and shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "So I'm totally not worried about it." She laughed. "I can't believe you thought that about me."  
  
"It's just...love is a powerful feeling," Willow said. "And girls around your age sometimes feel like having sex will make the other person like them more."  
  
"If you have sex with a boy to make him like you, you're totally dumb." Dawn looked at them both sternly. "I hope you two aren't doing that sort of stuff."  
  
"Um, Dawnie?" Tara said. "We don't have sex with boys...at all."  
  
"Good," Dawn said. "Do like me. Wait till you're older."  
  
Dawn looked to her right, where she could see the roof of her old house in the distance. The weight of the situation crept back into her mind. They had wasted too much time with this silly discussion. She set off walking. They had to hurry.  
  
*  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Buffy looked up at him. Her eyes caught the light reflected from the blade of the axe, and it glittered in the tears that suddenly appeared. He was reminded of a similar time, when he had gone hunting for her with a shotgun, and found her crying over her mother's illness. The sight of her pain made him weak then, but he couldn't afford such tenderness now. Still, he hesitated. He held the axe over her, his arm unwavering, and told himself that he just had to see...because maybe...maybe...  
  
Buffy coughed, and a trickle of blood ran out of the corner of her mouth. She turned her face up again, the blood mixing with the tears, covering her delicate skin with tracks of pain, but not even beginning to diminish her beauty. "Spike," she repeated, and the way her voice formed his name made him shiver.  
  
He still didn't move.  
  
"I'm supposed to be doing something," she said. Her hand shook as she touched the bruise on her head and winced. "I'm not done. There's still miles to go. I have all these things and nowhere to fit it all."   
  
She began sobbing quietly, and Spike fought the urge to drop his weapon, fall into her arms, and cry along with her, there in a heap of unnatural flesh in the foyer of the house. Instead he just watched, a lump of anguish filling his throat, until he was sure that he would never be able to speak again.  
  
Buffy's crying slowed, and she ran her hand over her forehead. "They're never going to fix this, are they?" she said. "All the scar tissue in the world, and I'll always be broken." She locked eyes with Spike. "But you, Spike, you're broken too, aren't you?"  
  
He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even change the stoic expression on his face. All he could do was nod.  
  
"We're torn," she said. "Stuck. Between life and death. Between good and evil." A small smile fought its way through the drying tears and blood. She reached out with her undamaged hand and wrapped it around his ankle. "Stay with me," she said gently. "We're weak, and confused, but we're strong together."  
  
Spike swallowed hard, but his words still caught in his throat. "We always were, love."  
  
"Then come back to me," she said. "We could do anything. We could kill anything. Everyone. And then, whenever you want to..." She released his leg and used the arm to sweep her hair back, exposing her neck. "We'd be unstoppable."  
  
Something inside Spike broke. His arm - the arm that still held an axe high - began to shake violently, and he started breathing: quick, sharp exhales through his nose. His vision of her blurred, and he blinked back tears.   
  
Before she had been beyond him. Her friends, her sister, her mother, her school, her boyfriend. She had a life; she had love. It surrounded her, and was so close to her that he was forced to pull away from it, like sunlight, brighter than the fire. He existed outside of her love, and all he wanted was to pull himself inside of it, even if - like the fire - it killed him. Even if it destroyed everything he was.   
  
*But what am I?*  
  
The though was too much for him. He dropped the axe, and fell to the floor beside Buffy.  
  
*  
  
"She's just waking up," the doctor said. "So five minutes, all right?"  
  
Xander nodded, and rolled down the hall and into her room.  
  
The lights were dim. Anya lay half-awake on a pile of pillows. She was pale, and her arms were attached to so many IVs that she looked like an odd plastic spider.  
  
"Xander?" she said weakly.  
  
"Yeah," he said, taking her hand and smiling. "You're gonna be fine."  
  
"Where..." she choked out.  
  
"We're in the hospital," he said. Seeing her breathing, her eyelashes twitching, and her mouth struggling to form words, he couldn't help but smile; he was so relieved. "I think they're gonna start giving us frequent flier miles here."  
  
"Will..."  
  
"You don't have to talk," he told her. "Just rest."  
  
Anya tried to shake her head, by all she could manage was a weak twitch.   
  
Xander leaned forward, concerned. "What is it?"  
  
Anya squeezed his hand with what little strength she could muster. "Xander," she said. "Will you marry me?"  
  
"Of course." Xander buried his face in her blankets to blot out the tears that were fast falling from his eyes. "Of course."  
  
*  
  
"Oh God."  
  
Willow stopped in her tracks. They were only a few yards away from the house. Her face paled and her eyes turned glassy.  
  
"What?" Dawn said, afraid of the answer but desperate to know. When Willow didn't respond immediately she rushed up to her and grabbed her arms roughly. "What? What? *What?*"  
  
"Something..." Willow said. "Something's happening. We can't go in. We can't."  
  
"I have to," Dawn said. "Just tell me. Is..." Tears sprung to her eyes. "Is he dead?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "Worse."  
  
*  
  
Buffy put her hand to Spike's bruised and bloody chest. "I know how it feels."  
  
Spike closed his eyes and drew in air. The pain was worse than the Initiative chip, worse than when the church collapsed on him, worse than when he woke up to find his hand on fire. It was all over him: in his head, in his eyes, in his body. "Everything inside me..." he groaned.  
  
"Destroyed," Buffy said. She ran her hand up his body and to his face. "I know."  
  
He exhaled a long, ragged breath. He searched for a thought that would quell his suffering, an image of something - anything - that could bring him to what he was, that would lead him out of the miserable, hopeless, vast emptiness that felt like it was eating away at him from the inside. "I can't stand it," he said.  
  
He felt Buffy's warm breath on his face and opened his eyes to see her face inches away from his. "It hurts. But we can fight through it. We can live, and we can kill. We can go out into that world and tear apart everything that crosses our path. And we'll be together. Always."  
  
She kissed him. It was full of all the passion he'd always known she was capable of. He tasted her blood on her lips, and the saltiness of her tears, as she kissed him again and again, each time more deeply and with more energy.  
  
It was the second kiss he had received from her in only a few months. Neither were what he had wanted. The first was filled with pity, a kiss meant only to thank him, and possibly meant to discourage him from seeking further contact. This one was more emotional: an excited kiss, meant to bring them closer together in their suffering, and to pull him into her. But she was not the fire he remembered; not the human spirit that burned with love; not the hero that he had honestly - beyond all logic, and in defiance of his nature - respected. That fire had been irreversibly extinguished.  
  
Buffy caressed Spike's face and pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. "We'll start with my friends," she said, her lips brushing his as she spoke, her hand stroking him, moving downward, over his chest, rubbing the tight muscles of his abdomen, and resting finally in his lap. "And my sister. Then Angel. Then Drusilla. Until everyone who ever hurt us is dead. And then this pain will stop. We won't have to suffer anymore."  
  
Buffy kissed Spike again. Then suddenly she gasped and pulled backwards. She gagged, then put her head down and spit out blood. It landed on top of a black wooden cylinder.  
  
Her knife was embedded deep in her stomach.  
  
Buffy looked up at Spike, her eyes hard and cold. "She'll never love you," she said. "You'll always be a demon."  
  
"I know she won't," Spike said. "And I know what I am."  
  
Spike reached behind him, pulled the axe forward, and swung it hard. Buffy's head landed on the ground behind her.  
  
He wanted to stay there on the floor, in this dark and abandoned house where no one would find him for days, where he could bury his face in the bloody remains of the woman he loved and will himself to die. For a moment he considered this seriously. Then he heard a faint thump behind him.  
  
Dawn had fallen to her knees just inside the doorway. Her face was blank, her eyes - those huge, bright, innocent, ancient eyes - unblinking, and every molecule in her body seemed to be shaking. Willow and Tara stood on the front porch, frozen with shock. But Dawn was suffering the worst shock Spike had ever seen, worse than what had happened to Buffy when Glory kidnapped Dawn. Dawn's face slowly turned white, and then blue. She wasn't breathing.  
  
Spike pulled himself over to kneel in front of her. He stared into her face as if the entire world - the house, the town, the Hellmouth, and the corpse of their beloved - ceased to exist. This was the image that had pulled him from the depths of his misery, that had showed him what he was.  
  
He kissed her. So softly that he wasn't sure if he had touched her lips, until he felt a gentle burst of air against his face. She was breathing. Her big eyes blinked, and silent tears poured out of them like rain.  
  
"Spike..." he heard. It was Willow's voice, a warning in my mind.  
  
I don't mean to do anything bad, he thought. I'll love her, and I'll protect her, and I'll heal her broken soul if it takes a lifetime. He brushed Dawn's hair back from her face. I have plenty of time.  
  
Spike kissed Dawn again.  
  
The End  
  



End file.
